


Outliers

by GrissleMcThornbody



Category: One Piece
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Friendship/Love, Frobin, High School
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2018-10-29 08:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrissleMcThornbody/pseuds/GrissleMcThornbody
Summary: Robin Nikov had spent the last 6 years of her life hopping from school to school. She had no friends, no mother, and no intention of changing herself. Then one day her uncle sends her to Mar Sept Academy, where she meets a rambunctious Senior with just as little desire to change. However, sometimes standing out isn't necessarily a good thing.One Piece AU. Frobin.





	1. Sole

"Demon child." "Draculina." Ever since moving to America, Robin Nikov had found herself at the butt end of insults and bullying over her morbid sensibilities and Russian accent. She was only eight years old when her uncle Saul had brought her to America for a better life, but still, almost seven years later, she was getting driven out of yet another school for being different. 

"Don't worry," her uncle assured her. "Someday you will find someone who truly understands you." 

Though, that was very little comfort coming from the man who was constantly referred to as a giant. 

Saul, since defecting from their homeland, worked as a security adviser, so it was not like moving suddenly was too hard on him, but Robin still felt like a burden to him. She was taller than most boys with a love of all things dark; the chances of her finding anybody who would accept her after first glance, seemed impossible. So, with a sigh, she stepped out of her uncle's car, and looked up at the site that was inevitably going to be just another educational institution on her long list of "schools she had to leave." However, the school had come highly recommended by one of her uncle's friends in the government, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad. 

Mar Sept Academy, was a lot dirtier than she expected. From a distance the five story building looked almost like grand piece of Venetian architecture, but up close, on the ground level, wrappers and cigarette butts clung to the dingy outer walls. She held her breath as she caught sight of a bandanna clad young man with black lipstick smoking by one of the outdoor stairwells. 

The man looked at her and smiled, letting a smooth trail of smoke tumble past his lips. 

"Nmaaaa, can I help you?" He said flatly. 

Robin stiffened up, clutching her current reading material to her chest defensively. Her heart was racing wildly; she wasn't expecting to have to deal with another person so soon. 

"Principal's office," she managed to blurt out. 

The young man's eyes widened for a second as she spoke but then softened as he smiled. He flicked the cigarette away and approached her. His eyes looked her over, causing Robin to clutch her book ever tighter to her chest. He was about the same height as her, which forced her to make eye contact with him.

"I'm actually here to see the principal as well," he said, giving her a slight nod. "Just follow me." 

 

When Robin Nikov and the mysterious man arrived at the correctly labeled office, they were greeted by a blonde sophisticated looking woman with glasses. She had her clipboard propped underneath her bosom, making the cleavage she already possessed seem even more pronounced. 

"Well," the woman chided. "If it isn't mister Iceberg? Is Franklin's guardian too busy to show up again?" 

The young man beside Robin raised his eyebrows. If he was representing someone's guardian then he must be much older than she initially thought he was. Robin looked away. 

"I keep telling you, he can't leave the factory," the man snapped. "Besides, I know you like seeing me, Miss Kalifa." 

Miss Kalifa, let out a huff and adjusted her glasses. 

"That's sexual harassment," she said coyly. 

"Dinner Friday then?" Mister Iceberg asked, leaning in. 

Clipboard met the bridge of the man's nose, as Miss Kalifa turned to Robin. "And you are?" 

Robin's eyes grew wide upon being addressed. She straightened up to her ever growing height and looked down at the woman. 

"Umm... I'm Robin Nikov, the new transfer student," she replied quietly. 

The woman looked startled upon hearing the girl speak and quickly removed her clipboard from Mister Iceberg's face. The man also seemed to be quite taken aback by her statement. 

"Oh goodness," the woman said adjusting her glasses again. "You're quite tall." 

Then Miss Kalifa glanced from the door behind her to Iceberg and then Robin. "Principal Spandam is currently dealing with a disciplinary matter, but as soon as he is finished I am sure he will be happy to-" 

A loud crash and the principal's door flying open suddenly cut the woman's statement short, as a boy, who was even taller than Robin was, came bursting into the hallway. 

"SUPER!" The boy yelled with his hands thrown above his head in seeming victory. 

Robin was slightly blown away to see anyone taller than she was, let alone on her first day. Not to mention, he had BLUE hair. She instinctively grabbed one of her black locks, as the boy turned to look in her direction. His eyes were a piercing grey. The boy lifted one arm as he approached. 

"Oi, Dumberg," the boy seemed to growl. "I got suspended again." 

Robin was floored. He was being way too casual about that. Even with all her trouble in school, Robin could never imagine being suspended. Robin quickly analyzed the situation. The boy had addressed Mister Iceberg casually, which meant that he was most likely Franklin. 

While mister Iceberg and Franklin began to bicker about what some guy named "Tom" was going to think, Miss Kalifa tapped Robin on the shoulder. 

"Principal Spandam will see you now," the woman whispered. 

As Robin sat down in the principal's office, she could not help but notice the ice-pack sitting on the principal's hand. She looked up. The principal was a squirrely looking man. Robin estimated from the wrinkles that he had to be in at least his mid thirties. His hair was wavy and disheveled. He looked a bit too eccentric to actually be a school principal, but, then again, appearances weren't everything. 

"So you're Robin Nikov," the man said, attempting to shuffle a stack of papers with only one hand. "We here at Mar Sept... would very much..."  
Papers tumbled from his hand. 

"Would very much like to welcome..." After a minute of failing to straighten the papers he turned towards the door. "Kalifa!" 

The elegant woman entered the room, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes, sir?" 

Principal Spandam placed the remaining papers on the edge of his desk, and gestured towards Robin. 

"Could you, grab the schedule for her classes, and show her to period B?" The man stammered. Kalifa picked up the papers and nodded, signaling with a finger for Robin to come. "And get me some more ice!" 

Robin silently followed, as the woman guided her through the school, explaining every little detail of the school's history and code of conduct. The halls were all off-white and smelled of bleach, and Robin was quite surprised to see bars on many of the classroom doors as they ascended higher into the school. It almost made the place seem like a small prison. When they arrived on the fifth floor, her guide stopped in front of a door labeled "Biology" and knocked. A curly black-haired man with a sparse goatee answered. He looked the pair over and smiled. 

"Well you must be the new student," he said in a smooth deep voice. He opened the door wider, so Robin could enter. "We've been expecting you." 

As Robin entered the room she was greeted with the silent stares of the other students. One particularly pale and moody kid in the back stood out in his spotted hat. Then, from the front of the room, the tall girl could hear snickering and whispers. 

"Alright class," the teacher said, closing the door and crossing in front of her. "This is Robin Nikov. She will be spending her time here at Mar Sept with the rest of you lot. Are there any questions?" 

A brawny boy in the front row raised his hand. "How's the weather up there?" 

Laughter.


	2. Pair

The rest of the day followed suit. Lunch was quiet. Robin sat silently at a table along with the pale boy from her first class, while they both read. The questions she received from anybody who even bothered to talk to her were usually along the lines of "Is that your real accent" and "how are you so tall". Then when she wouldn't bother responding to them, they would call her a bitch, frigid, and weirdo. However, Robin didn't really mind too much; she was used to it and always had a good book to read. 

Then, finally, two days into life at her new school, Robin was approached by an older blonde haired girl about what book she was reading. Robin smiled and showed her: _A_ _Clockwork Orange_. The girl thanked her said she would have to check it out. The girl never spoke to Robin again after that. Robin tried to spark up another conversation with her, but, every time she even got close in proximity, the girl shot her a horrified look and hid her face. 

Everyday Robin ate lunch at the same table with the quiet pale kid. She considered asking him about the medical books he was constantly pouring over, but the glare that he occasionally shot her whenever she sat down, kept her from doing so. Then, one day, that glare finally turned into a statement. 

"Get up," the boy glowered.  

Robin was startled to hear how deep his voice was for a kid so small. "What?" 

"Get up," he repeated. "I have enough problems without the 'vampire girl' sitting with me everyday." 

Robin bit her lower lip to keep it from shaking and obliged the boy. After all, the last thing she wanted to do was burden someone else with her stigma. Once she had found a secluded spot outside, she put her stuff down and hugged her knees. 

"Oi!" 

A voice startled her into becoming aware of her surroundings. She quickly wiped her eyes and looked up, to a tall blue-haired boy staring wide-eyed down at her. It was that Franklin guy! Clutched in his hand was a pair of brown lunch sacks.  

"You're that girl..." She heard him whisper.  

Then suddenly the boy pointed at her with a tanned arm, so that his fingertip was mere centimeters from her face.  

"What are you doing in my spot?" He demanded. Robin let out a sniffle, causing the young man to leap back. "Hey, stop that! Are you crying?" 

In an instant the taller guy was crouched beside her studying her face; panic clearly plastered across his own.  

"L-Look it's not that big a deal; you can sit here if you want," he stammered. "I mean, I don't know why you'd want to. I'm sure it would be much nicer to eat in there with your friends or something, right?" 

Tears began streaming down Robin's face once more. Why was this guy being so nice to her? She was that "vampire girl." Maybe he just hadn't realized it yet because of his suspension, but as soon as he talked to his friends he would find out about her and things would be just like all the others.  

"I said 'stop', please," the young man began pleading, a hand gently patting her shoulder. "Did you have a fight with them or something?" 

Robin shook her head, she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Why was he still bothering her? She lifted a hand to wipe her face, but it was caught in a large callused palm before she could. The warm hand pulled her to her feet and began to drag her down the hall. She tried to pull away, but it's grip was too strong. She looked up at the young man and spoke. 

"Where are you taking me," she asked. 

"To the Shop," he said simply, not even looking back at her.  

"What- Why?" She said, dumbfounded.  

"You can't let them know they get to you," he stated. 

After that Robin followed him in silence to the second floor shop. For being a woodworking room, it was a lot cleaner than Robin had imagined it would be. Once they arrived, Franklin let go of her hand and sat at a table to eat his lunch. Robin silently followed, sitting in a stool across from him. The older boy pulled out a second peanut butter jelly sandwich and handed it to her. Robin hesitated for a moment but took it after he insisted. 

"So what's your name," he asked her through a mouthful of sandwich.  

"Robin," she answered, quietly. When her "savior" took another large bite of his meal she decided it was her turn to continue the conversation. "Your name is Franklin right?" 

The boy suddenly began choking on his sandwich. He beat his chest and took a large drink of cola, while Robin ran through all of her knowledge of the Heimlich Maneuver in her head. Eventually the fit settled down and he took a deep breath of air.  

"Oi, Oi! Call me Franky, FRA-N-KY," the young man gasped. He was quite dramatic. "None of my friends call me Franklin." 

"Is that what we are?" Robin asked, skeptically. 

"Well, yeah," He replied matter-of-factly. "I gave you part of my lunch... You don't have any better offers do you? Now chill out and eat." 

Robin was silent; she wasn't sure she liked how perceptive he was. She took a bite of her own sandwich. Creamy sweet, deliciousness filled her mouth. She had never tasted anything like it before. She took another bite and another, eliciting a chuckle from the other side of the table. 

"So what grade are you in, Robin?" Franky asked, taking a large swig of soft-drink.  

Robin stopped eating and covered her mouth. "I just entered ninth." 

Another spit-take from Franky.  

As soon as he had recovered, Robin gave him a confused look. "Is that surprising?" 

The boy breathed deeply. "W-well yeah, I mean you're just so tall! Look at you! I could have sworn you were at least in eleventh." 

Robin gave him a scowl. There it was: the inevitable statement about how she didn't look her age. 

"What about you," she shot back. "You're still much taller than I am." 

Franky rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.  

"Yeah," he muttered. "But I'm a senior, so it's to be expected. And you're..." 

"Girls go through puberty earlier than boys do," Robin replied flatly. 

There was a moment of silence between them, as Franky rapidly finished up his lunch. Robin knew that finding a friend, even one like Franky was too good to be true.  

"Do you want to ask me about my accent too," she asked.  

Franky glanced at her, a look of poorly veiled guilt and curiosity painted all over his face.  

Robin let out a sigh. He had at least been controlled enough not to ask and did kind of save her from the embarrassment of crying in front of the cafeteria for the rest of lunch. 

"I was born in Russia," she said, calmly looking at her food. "My mom left when I was little, and my uncle defected from the Russian military when I was seven. The U.S. government decided that his secrets were worth something, so they let him bring me over here with him in exchange for intelligence."  

When she looked up, Franky's face was inches from hers. His eyes were sparkling with excitement. Robin quickly leaned away. 

"That's super cool!" He exclaimed. "So your uncle is like a spy?" 

Robin was instantly regretting her decision to talk to this guy; he was way too loud. "Intelligence agent, but don't scream it-" 

"We definitely have to be friends now!" Franky yelled, getting in her face again.  

Robin felt like the chances of that happening were slim to none. As much as she enjoyed not having to eat lunch alone, Franky's personality was a little too much for her. The older boy ripped off a piece of his lunch bag and began scribbling on it. Robin tried to see but could not quite tell past his large hands. Then he grabbed her hand and placed the scrap in it. She looked down to see a number scrawled on it.  

"What is this?" She said. 

The boy beamed.  

"It's my cell phone number," he said, holding up a large Nokia cell phone. Robin's jaw dropped. She had never been so close to one before. "Cool right? I saved up for months to get it. Do you have a number?" 

Robin shook her head.  

"That's fine," Franky continued. "If you ever need help just call me. Think of me as a big brother. This place is kind of like my sanctuary, but you can eat lunch here whenever, if you need to. And I'll be around too if you want to talk." 

This guy was just not going to let her escape was he? 

She looked around the shop again, now that she had calmed down. There were your typical wooden boxes and other small crafts on some of the benches, but if you looked up you could see model ships and blueprints of weapons lining the walls. Robin couldn't help but get up to take a closer look. Each model was detailed all the way down to the latches on the tiny windows and smelled of citrus. 

"Pretty Super right," she heard Franky say behind her, she didn't have to look at him to tell he was smiling proudly. 

Robin nodded. She quickly wandered over to another ship which caught her eye. 

"This looks like an ancient Phoenician warship," she mused carefully reaching up a hand to trace the curve bow of the model. A hand stopped hers. She looked up to see Franky's expression suddenly serious. He let go of her hand and backed away. 

"You like ships?" He asked, forcing himself to look pleasant. His eyes betrayed his nerves. 

"No, I just like history," said shaking her head. She smiled at him as she wandered over to another model. "You can relax; I'm not going to break your hard work... They're beautiful." 

The older boy looked startled but relaxed with a grin. "You really think so? I drew the blueprints myself. Someday I'm going to make ships that reach the farthest depths of the unknown." 

"What does BF-26 mean?" She asked looking at the back of one of the ships.  

The older boy came up next to her. "That's Battle-Franky twenty six. They all have names like that." 

"If you wanted to make it accurate you should have put it in Greek characters," Robin told him. She watched as his face turned red. "You don't know them do you?... Not good for an engineer-" 

"Shut-up! I know the important ones," he snapped.   

Robin looked around the room until she eventually found a pencil and a blank sheet of paper and began writing. Franky watched from a distance for a minute, before finally coming over to look at what she was doing. 

"Oi! Wait! Are you writing them all by memory?" He gasped. "That's insane. How do you remember all of them?" 

"It's difficult to concentrate while you're yelling," she berated. 

Once she had finished writing down the entire Greek alphabet in both modern, archaic, and classical Greek with their English equivalents and numerals, she handed the paper to Franky who seemed to be frozen in awe.  

"I also know Sumerian, Babylonian, Latin, Old English, and Russian," Robin said. "So if you ever want help with those just let me know."  

Franky nodded slowly and let out a long whistle. "Are you sure you're 14?" 

"Is that weird?" Robin asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious. She had never opened up so much to someone this close to her age before.  

Franky shook his head rapidly. "No- no! It's amazing... It's Super.... Do you want to-?" 

The sound of the school tone filled the room, drowning out the end of whatever the blue-haired boy said.  

"What?" Robin yelled as the tone died away.  

Franky's face was flushed, his breathing was deep and rapid, as if he was caught jogging in the summer sun.  

"I-… uh," Robin could tell he was trying to come to a decision. "Do you want to hang out tomorrow?" 

A light flutter filled Robin's chest as she looked up at him. Was this what it was like having a friend? Honestly it had been too long for her to remember what the sensation felt like. Her eyes were beginning to sting again as she felt herself smile. She nodded. 

"Yes." 


	3. Gang

For the next few weeks, Robin met Franky everyday for lunch in the shop. They would talk about science, history, and travel. Franky was naturally curious about Russia, and Robin was interested in learning about how Franky learned to build such complex things, as there was no way that he had learned from the school.  

She desperately wanted to tell her uncle more about her new friend; however, Saul was lately so busy with work that he regularly only came home to sleep. Her uncle was starting to develop dark circles under his eyes and his usually jovial pudge was beginning to wane. Robin just figured it had to do with the rapidly escalating war going on in Iraq.  

When she talked to Franky about it he simply responded with the fact that Tom was acting similarly and that it probably was just a stressful time for everyone.  

The more time that passed, the more rumors began to arise. Tales of the "Russian Vampire" hanging out with the school delinquent spread like wildfire. She was a freshman and he was a senior; the only sane conclusion was that they must be sleeping together. People began substituting the slurs of "creep" and "commie" for "slut", "whore", and "witch", which didn't bother Robin too much. They weren't her friends in the first place, why should she care what they thought? Besides nothing was actually going on between them. 

One day while she left the cafeteria, Robin caught a glimpse of several boys following her. She clutched the sides of her tray tightly as she picked up her pace. She did not recognize the boys from any of her classes, and from the sparse facial hair on their chins she could assume that they were older. Robin's heartbeat sped up; slowly but surely the boys were gaining on her. She entered the stairwell, and began quickly jogging up the stairs, not paying any mind to whether or not her food spilling. As she neared the top she heard the bottom door slam open and a flurry of footsteps behind. A hand grabbed Robin's ankle, and she lost her footing. She screamed, throwing her tray at her attackers. The boy let go. Robin reached for the door.  

"Quick grab her hands!" She heard one of the boys yell, as a large hand seized by the hair.  

Robin let out a yelp and swung a fist at her attacker, but it was caught be she could make contact. 

Staring deeply into her eyes, was a blonde and brown-eyed boy with a distinctively long nose. She spat at him and cursed in Russian as she kicked at the other boys with her long legs. Tears were beginning to cloud her vision but she shook them away. Her ears were roaring with the sound of her own blood.  

"Hey, calm down," the blonde boy hissed, wiping the spit from his face. "We just heard that you like to give out favors and wanted to ask you for some." 

Robin didn't fully understand what he meant, but she had the distinct feeling that he was talking about sex, and from the way they were holding her down they weren't going to be giving her an option. She thrashed again. She wanted to scream, but she just couldn't find her breath. As the hands began slowly making their way up her legs. Tears of frustration streamed down her cheeks. 

She kicked. She growled. Robin had never felt so helpless in her life. 

 _Please,_ _anyone... save me..._  

The door at the top of the stairs burst open and a fist collided with the long nosed boys face with a roar.  

"Get your hands off Her!" Franky yelled, as he punched one of the boys that  was clutching her legs.  

Suddenly Robin had one leg free, and she whipped her body around to kick the other boy in the face. There was a loud crack, and her assailant collapsed. With a whimper the boy who was holding her arm let go and began racing down the stairs. Franky rushed to the girl's side.  

"Robin, are you okay," he asked, his eyes were wide and his lip was bleeding. Then tears began to pool up in his eyes, and snot began to dribble from his nose. "I'm so sorry." 

Robin wanted to pat his head to reassure him she was alright, but at that moment a pair of teachers and Miss Kalifa came bursting through the lower stairwell door. Their faces looked livid when they saw the students collapsed on the stairs. 

"Mister Cutty!" Miss Kalifa screamed as she leapt up the stairs. The woman seized Franky by the ear. The other two teachers looked over the three bloodied students. "You've really outdone yourself this time." 

Robin tried to rise to her feet as Miss Kalifa began to drag Franky away. 

"Wait," the raven-haired girl gasped. "It's a misunderstanding. Please he-!" 

"Oh we have heard quite the tale from your classmate Miss Nikov," the woman sneared. Then she stopped and turned to the girl. "You'll be lucky if we don't take you to the principal as well." 

And with that, Robin watched in horror as her only friend was dragged away along with her attackers. After the teachers had left, she could hear the sound of light breathing. A dark pair of eyes and pale skin watched her through a crack in the door. A flame of rage ran through her gut. Robin picked up one of her shoes that had been lost in the attack and threw it at them. 

"Get out!"  

With a clatter the shoe missed, hitting the wall instead and tumbled to the floor, and Robin collapsed.. 

 

 

Uncle Saul came and picked Robin up early that day. After she got home, the girl was not sure how long she spent just staring at the brown scrap of paper she had received from Franky the first day they spoke. It was his number. Surely he would answer if she called, but what would she say? She wanted to thank him, but she knew she couldn't think up a way to say it. 

From a distance her Uncle watched her solemnly.  

"If he saved you, you should call him, _ptichka_ ," he said softly. "I know you want to thank him; I do as well." 

" _Dyadya_ , what if he doesn't want to be friends anymore," Robin whispered. "What if they kicked him out." 

"Heshishishishishi... Don't worry about that. He is a smart boy, right? He will be fine," her uncle said. "I have already called my friend Aokiji to see if there is anything we can do to help." 

Robin hugged the giant man tightly. "Thank you, _Dyadya._ " 

The Russian giant patted her back, before giving her a light shove towards the kitchen. "Now call that boy, and let him know you're alright." 

 

Robin's heart felt like it was going to thump out of her chest as she listened to the phone ring. Once it got to the third ring, she had almost lost all hope of him answering. Then, suddenly there was a click and light grumble. 

"Hello?" the older boy's voice crackled over the phone line. 

Robin covered her mouth as she felt tears beginning to fill her eyes and threaten to overtake her voice as well. 

"Hello?" The boy repeated, clearly more irritated.  

Robin didn’t hold her breath fast enough and a small gasp escaped her throat. From there she couldn't stop the rest of herself from crying. 

The tone of the voice on the other side became noticeably softer. "Robin?" 

The girl managed to choke out a small "mhm" before a large sniffle. 

"Are you alright?" Franky murmured. "I swear to God if they did anything I'll kill them-!" 

It felt like the smile on Robin's lips was going to peel off the rest of her face. She was so relieved that he didn't hate her for getting him in trouble. 

"Oh Robin please stop crying," she heard the boy saying after a moment of silence. "If you cry, I'm gonna cry, and I'm fine. I promise. It's only three days suspension. I'll be back before you know it." 

Robin attempted to pull back her tears with a large sniffle and finally found her voice.  

"I'm fine too," she declared. "Because of you, I'm fine too." 

Over the phone there was a loud rustle sound before the sound of someone blowing their nose. 

"Why do you have to go saying stuff like that you idiot? Now I'm crying," Franky whined. 

Robin laughed. They had been through so much that day, yet he always had some way to make her laugh.  

In the background Robin could hear a what sounded like woman's voice address Franky.  

"Who are you talking to," the woman's voice said, growing louder. "Do you have a girlfriend?" 

Then came the sound of Franky's agitated voice. "Monster baa-san! She's not my girlfriend. She's just my friend from school. Now lay off!" 

"I heard you got suspended for spending ‘secret lunch’ with her, sounds like she's pretty special to me," the woman continued.  

Robin could feel her cheeks growing warm. Surely, the woman was just joking. It wasn't actually weird for a boy and a girl to spend alone time together. After all, they were just talking. They weren't doing anything weird. 

"You're drunk," the girl heard Franky yell. "Go to bed or go ask Iceberg about his thing with that bitch of a secretary!" 

The sound of the woman calling for the other boy trailed off and there was more rustling.  

"I am so sorry, I have to take care of her; she's way past gone," Franky whispered. "But I'll be back at school in three  days, and we can hang out then." 

Robin's heart sank. They had just started talking. She didn't want him to go just yet. 

 "Can I call you again tomorrow?" She found herself blurting out. 

There was silence on the other end of the line. If it hadn't been for the faint sound of the drunk woman screaming in the background, Robin would have thought that he had hung up.  

"Yeah," Franky finally said. "Of course, you can call." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dyadya*: Is the Russian term one uses to address one's uncle
> 
> Ptichka*: Is a Russian term of endearment, meaning "little bird" or "birdie"


	4. Group

Robin was on high alert when she went to school the next day. She made sure to run up the stairs to each of her classes and always checked her back as she was leaving the safety of the classroom. As she walked through the halls she could still hear the whispers of "slut", "whore", "tease." 

"She should have been suspended," she heard one girl spit as she passed. 

In her second period class, she glared at the pale boy who sat only a few seats away from her. She was sure he was to blame for her only friend getting suspended. After class ended Robin slowly gathered her things, never letting her eyes leave the boy with the spotted hat. He calmly approached her as the other students left, sneaking glances.  

"Do you have a problem with me?" He asked, his awkwardly low voice cracking at the end of his sentence.   

"Did you do it?" The young woman asked, leaning towards the boy, lowering her voice. 

"I didn't mean to get your boyfriend in trouble," the boy said with a shrug. "I just felt the teachers  should know that there might be some deviance occurring on the second floor." 

"He's my friend," Robin stated darkly. "And we were only up there because none of you wanted us down there." 

With that she pushed past him, making her way towards the door. 

"Shouldn't you be thanking me for getting the teachers involved when I saw those guys following you," the boy called after her. 

Robin stopped and turned  on her heels. She made her way back to the boy, who was straightening himself up in an attempt to look taller. The girl lifted a hand and slapped him across the face.  

"Thank you," she said before storming off. 

Robin was forced to eat her lunch in the cafeteria that day under the watchful eyes of Miss Kalifa. She desperately wanted to explain the full situation to the woman, but had the distinct feeling her tale would fall on deaf ears.  

The next two followed in a similar manner: running in the stairwells, checking her back, and eating lunch with Miss Kalifa. When she got home each day, she called Franky, and they talked for hours.  

The day of Franky's return, Robin waited expectantly for him outside the cafeteria, but he didn't come. She snuck off to go check the shop, but he wasn't there. She spent the entire lunch period waiting in his spot, hoping that he would come by, but he never did. 

Robin felt numb. Everything had seemed fine when they had been talking to each other on the phone. He couldn't have gotten suspended again could he? The girl could barely focus on her last few classes. Her mind was swimming with the possible reasons he might not be there. Car accident? Accidental drowning? House Fire? No no...  Then finally her last period class was interrupted by a police officer knocking on the door.  

"Is Robin Nikov in this class?" The gruff looking cop asked. Robin's heart thudded in her chest as she stood to acknowledge the man. "If you could please follow me." 

The officer brought Robin down to the principal's office where Franky and the four boys who assaulted her were sitting in a row. Two chairs were set up across from the group. The officer gestured to one as he took his seat in the other. Robin sat slowly, feeling her eyebrows tie themselves in knots as she stared at Franky. She wasn't sure why, but she could tell that he was distraught. 

"So," the officer began with a loud huff. "The boys and I have already talked a little bit about the incident that occurred four days ago, but I think we would all like to hear your side of things." 

Robin looked around the room at the adults present. Miss Kalifa was there and so was the principal. This was her chance to clear up the misunderstanding. 

"Now Miss Nikov," the officer said. "According to the boys here, over the past few weeks you have been meeting up with Mister Cutty here for some... special alone time in the shop room. Is that true?" 

Franky slowly shook his head, causing Robin's eyes to grow wide. Fanky then looked away, causing the girl to look at the cop who was studying her closely. 

"Now remember, here in America it is a crime to lie to a police officer," the cop warned.  

Robin nodded.  

"Yes, Franky and I ate lunch together," she said, eliciting dramatic noises of shock from Miss Kalifa and the principal. Robin looked from them to the officer. "I don't understand. Franky is my friend; is that weird to be eating him? Is it not normal for friends to hang out, alone?" 

"And you were just eating lunch?" The cop repeated. "You guys weren't doing anything else?" 

"It's like I told you," Franky interjected. "We're just friends. I don't know why you keep saying that anything was going on-!" 

"I'm sorry son, but I don't recall addressing you," the cop snapped. Then the man turned to another officer who was standing outside. "Can you get him out of here? I don't want him messing with the witness's credibility." 

The other officer shuffled between the two of them and lightly seized Franky's arm. The blue haired teen’s eyes never left Robin's as he was led from the room. 

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to!" He said, a fear that the girl had never seen before lingering in his eyes. "Remember you have the right to remain silent." 

"Where are you taking him," the girl asked the uniformed man, who was situating himself while looking through a clipboard. 

"Well nowhere, if you answer my questions honestly," the officer sighed. "So, what were you doing up in that room?" 

"We were talking and eating lunch." 

A disappointed sound escaped the officer's lips. "Well that's not what I heard." 

"We were talking and eating lunch. Sometimes I would help him out with things." 

The cop leaned towards her. "What kinds of things?" 

"I help him fix the writing on his ships. He doesn't know languages like I do, so I help him with them." 

"Has Mister Cutty, ever touched you in anyway?" The cop asked, lifting his pencil. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Has he ever touched you?" The man repeated. "There's nothing wrong if he has. I just need you to answer the question." 

Robin thought carefully. The question felt like a trap, but she had to make sure to answer honestly so they wouldn't take him away. Then she remember the few times that Franky had grabbed her hand. 

"Yes," she said, as another round of disappointed noises fill the room. "But it was just holding hands." 

"I knew it!" One of the boys exclaimed before being shushed by the officer, who then began writing.  

"So you and Mister Cutty did have a romantic relationship," the man grumbled as he wrote.  

Robin's eyes grew wide. "No." 

"Then why eat lunch alone, instead of in the cafeteria with everyone else?" the officer chided. "It's okay if you were. We just need the truth." 

Robin shook her head. "I don't understand what any of this has to do with what happened four days ago. They attacked me in the stairwell. Franky saved me." 

"How do I know that you didn't lure them to that stairwell with promises of sex, so that you and your boyfriend could beat them up and take their money?" The gruff man stated, his eyes with the fierceness of a wolf. 

"What are you talking about?" The girl gasped. She felt an uncontrollable desperation with the situation  unfolding before her. "I don't understand... They attacked me!" 

"Not according to what the teachers saw," the officer said. "They said they walked in to find you two romantically embracing over their barely conscious bodies." 

“No, no, we-!” 

"What's going on here!"  a familiar voice roared from the doorway, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.  

Robin whipped around, heart filling with relief. " _Dyadya_!" 

Her uncle loomed over the room, a dark scowl casting shadows over his red beard.  

"I do not recall giving consent for you to interrogate my niece," her uncle boomed. "She is only a child, and requires the presence of a guardian to be questioned by police, does she not?" Her uncle then turned to her and gave a slight nod. " _Ptichka_ , let's go." 

The principal then stood at this time. His hands quaking in what Robin could only assume was fear.  

"I-I am sorry sir," the scraggly man stammered. "We brought the officer in to assist with investigating a _school_ matter." 

"That's right," the uniformed man concurred, standing up to his full height and flexing his own brawn. "But I am afraid, thanks to your niece's testimony, that we are now going to have to initiate a criminal investigation, and I'd hate to see what obstruction of justice would potentially do to your green card status." 

"Then you can take that up with my supervisor," her uncle replied calmly. " _Ptichka_ , Come." 

As they walked away, Robin felt like a small child again as she tugged at her uncle's sleeve.  

" _Dyadya,_ what does he mean?" She asked, looking back at the school. In the distance she could see officers leading Franky off in handcuffs. " _Dyadya_ , what are they doing with him?" 

Her uncle firmly seized her around the shoulders, pulling her along with him.  

"Keep walking," he hissed, a level of harshness the girl had never experienced from him before. She could see her uncle look at the sky and mutter a latin prayer. "Why did you not tell me he was so old? I never would have encouraged such folly..." 

"What do you mean?" Robin asked as she stumbled to keep up. 

"That _boy_ is nineteen," her uncle whispered. "He's a man! And he was alone with you." 


	5. Family

The next week, Robin was forbidden from attending school. Her uncle was convinced that if she was up there they would attempt to interrogate her again. Her uncle had also taken off of work to be with her. The police came by a couple of times to ask to interview her, but every time her uncle would refuse.  

She knew that it was not her fault, but the shock and guilt of Franky potentially going to prison because he spent time with her was eating her alive. And the utter rage she had at the pale boy in her biology class. She'd really wished she could slap him again. And that cop! She wanted to slap him too for twisting her words like that. However, the one thing that had Robin the most shocked was Franky’s age.  

Nineteen wasn't too much older then the average senior, but it was still surprising, especially since she knew he wasn't dumb. He had frequently been working on calculations for his next Battle Franky blue prints during lunch, and, though he obviously not as adept at languages as she was, it did not take him long to memorize the characters she showed him. So how was it that he was so much older?  She just couldn't seem to wrap her head around it. 

As the weekend began, the mood in the apartment became tense. Uncle Saul was regularly getting into arguments over someone over the phone, and refused to even let Robin near the windows. Robin spent most of the time lying on her bed staring at the scrap of brown paper which contained Franky's number. She imagined phone calls in which she would confront him about his age, and why he never told her, but then it always came full circle to the fact that it didn't particularly matter to her because she still wanted to be friends. 

On Saturday evening Uncle Saul instructed her to pack her things with zero explanation, leaving Robin to wonder if they were going to have to go back to Russia. She obeyed, packing up clothes and some books in her backpack and everything else she could in a suitcase. Her uncle later came in to check up on her and took her backpack to the living room. This only solidified Robin’s suspicions. She had to make sure to say goodbye to Franky. There was no way that her uncle would let her use the phone, so, against her uncle’s wishes, went to her desk by her window.  

As she wrote Robin couldn't help but begin to feel like she was being watched. She looked out the window. 

There was a glint of something in the distance and Robin fell back in her chair as the glass of her window shattered with the sound of gunfire. The girl scrambled for door, tearing into the living room. Her uncle's face was ghostly white. 

“What did you-?” He breathed.  

“I didn't do anything,” she said, shaking her head in shock. “What’s going on?” 

“I was hoping it wouldn't come to this,” her uncle sighed.  

“ _Dyadya_! I'm not a child anymore!” The girl screamed. “What’s happening? I think someone shot through my window, and you've been having all those fights-!” 

Uncle Saul seized her shoulders forcing her to look at him. His eyes were wide with fear.  

“ _Ptichka_ , I need you remember a lot of stuff, so listen carefully, okay?” He said. Robin nodded. Then he pulled her close and whispered instructions in her ear. When he had finished he held her at arms distance. He smiled. “It's not your fault, okay. I got careless. It’s your uncle’s fault.” 

Robin shook her head, trying to latch on to him as he held her away.  

“ _Dyadya_. _Dyadya_. I don't want to… please-!” 

“You have to!” He said. 

He lightly brushed her cheek with a warm calloused hand and handed the girl her backpack.  

“I love you, Robin,” he whispered, kissing her on the forehead.  Then he pulled out his phone. “Go! Now!” 

Robin nodded and made her way to the garbage shoot. She opened the hatch and looked down. The darkness was intimidating, but Robin knew better than to question her uncle. She tossed her backpack down and then slid down herself.  

Her landing was smelly, but there wasn't anybody waiting for her. Above her there was the sound of heavy boots and loud men barking orders. She then quickly and quietly made her way to the laundry room where she swiped clothes from the first unattended machine she saw. She changed into the clothes which were slightly too short and attempted to disguised her backpack as a baby belly, throwing scarves every which way around herself. Then, with a deep breath, Robin stepped out of the building.  

She half expected to take a fatal bullet right then, but when her life wasn't instantly ended she looked around to see if she could spot why. On the porch of their apartment she could see her uncle standing with several FBI agents, including one that looked a surprising amount like Miss Kalifa.  

There was the sound of a gunshot, and Robin instinctively hid her face. She heard a loud familiar roar, followed by another gunshot. She had to run. She knew she had to run, but when she turned around she realized that her way was blocked. A tall man in a khaki suit and sleep mask, stood before her. Robin felt her blood run cold. 

“You're Robin aren't you,” the man whispered. “You've grown a lot since the last time I saw you.” 

Robin  scanned the area to see if there was any good escape route.  

“Don't even bother,” the man said. “I'm not going to turn you in. It’s the least I can do for him after bringing him to this place.”  

He took off his fedora, revealing his curl covered head, and placed it on Robin’s head, giving her a light push past him. 

“Once you get to the end of the block put your backpack on normally; you look ridiculous,” he whispered.  

Robin nodded and began walking.  

“Hey!” She heard another man’s voice yell behind her. She did not turn around to see who it was. “Agent Aokiji, were you just talking  to that woman?” 

“Oh you noticed,” the older man said with great enthusiasm. “Yeah she was pretty cute, got her number. I think we’re going to dinner tomorrow.” 

Robin could now barely hear the other man laughing uncomfortably as her uncle’s old friend starting gushing about women.  

Once she had made it far enough away, the young woman shed her extra layers and moved her backpack to her back. After dumping the extra clothes in a trashcan she began jogging towards downtown.  

It felt like she had ran for hours when she finally reached the endless rows of bars and shops. Once she had caught her breath, it took her barely a minute to find what she was looking for. She quickly fished some quarters out of her backpack and deposited them into the phone’s pay slot. She then lifted the receiver and called the number of the only friend she had. 

“Hello?” A woman’s voice answered. 

“Hello,” Robin said. “Is Franky there? My name is Robin. I- I need help.” 

There was the sound of muted voices for a minute. Before a deep man’s  voice came on the line. 

“Do you know where Franky is right now?” The man asked, a clear bitterness cutting through her voice.  

“Please, I need to talk to him,” the girl demanded. “I don't what else to do. They took my uncle.” 

“Call the police then,” the man said, dismissively. 

“I can't! Please!” Robin pleaded. “Where is Franky? I have to talk to him.” 

“He’s in Jail!” The man yelled. The girl could her his breathing change. It almost sounded like he was crying.  

Then a woman's voice came on the line. “Where are you right now, Robin?” 

“Umm…” Robin looked around her at the street signs.  “I’m around the corner of Cooper and Fourth.” 

She heard the woman repeat her location, before letting out a sigh.  

“Just hold tight there; we’re coming to get you,” the woman said gently. “We’ll be in a light blue pick-up.” 


	6. Horde

The ride back to Franky’s place was awkward to say the least. First there was overwhelming dread that the large, possibly intoxicated, Japanese woman, Kokoro, and the extremely agitated Iceberg were actually going to turn her in to the authorities. Then there was possibility that Kokoro was going to crash the truck and get them all killed, which the woman assured her was not going to happen. And then there was the final portion of the equation, which was the fact that Iceberg fully blamed Robin for the fact that Franky got arrested. 

The trip ended when they pulled up to a dilapidated looking aircraft hangar on the edge of town. In the yard there were husks of rockets and jet engines strewn about. Kokoro let out a sigh as she placed the car in park and hoped out, Iceberg was next, followed finally by Robin. 

The girl took a deep breath as she could see the outline of a dark figure approach them. The figure stopped at the edge of the building’s shadow.  

“So this is Robin?” A deep gritty voice boomed. “Aharhar! She’s quite pretty. I can see how our boy got into trouble.”  

Robin could feel her cheeks grow warm at the man’s teasing and she looked down, hugging her backpack close.  

“Tom,” Kokoro scolded. “You're going to scare the poor girl, acting ominous like that. Go back in the house!” 

The large figure just chuckled and lumbered off back towards the factory.  

“He doesn't bite, I promise,” the woman said giving Robin a rosy smile and pat on the back. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” 

The house was located inside the east edge of the hangar. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was definitely functional. They had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room and a kitchen. In the living room three drawing desks were propped against the wall. This must have been the study that Franky used to talk about.  

The girl ran her finger over  the wooden nameplate which read “Franklin”. Then suddenly she noticed the great shadow which covered her and the wall. She looked up to see a large dark skinned  man, who eerily reminded her of her uncle, smiling down at her. He had a broad lightly wrinkled face with a salt and pepper beard and head of hair. 

“Yes,” the man said in a voice that she recognized from outside. “She’s even prettier up close.” 

Robin’s cheeks heated up again, and the girl looked down at the ground.  

“Yeah, but she’s total jailbait though,” She heard Iceberg remark blackly.  

The big man just let out a hardy chuckle. “How old are you exactly Robin?” he said.. 

“Fourteen,” she whispered. 

There was a loud spitting sound and Tom began laughing even harder.  

“It’s not funny, Tom!” Iceberg scolded.  

“You don't think so? I mean, yeah, it's bad right now, but it’s not like the girl looks that young. And they’re only five years apart.  That's not too bad...” 

As the men continued discussing her age, a small blinking light had caught Robin’s eye. Attached to Tom’s ankle was some sort of weird black box. Clearly Tom caught her staring. 

“Pretty intimidating isn’t it,” Tom mused, turning his ankle to better show it off. “You build one rocket for the wrong person and the government acts like you’re the radical.” 

Robin looked up at Iceberg who  sighed and put down the blanket he was carrying.  

“About thirteen years ago, Tom ‘accidentally’ made THREE rockets for some foreign rebels,” Iceberg explained. “Of course he eventually got caught eight years ago, but for whatever reason they decided to let him continue working for the government under the condition that he would focus on designing parts for NASA and endure house arrest.” 

“It’s not too bad,” Tom interjected. “Franky and Iceberg help out a lot.” 

“Yeah, Franky and I actually took two years off of school a couple years back because of this big buffoon.” Iceberg added, causing Tom to laugh again. 

Well that explained why Franky was so much older… 

Kokoro poked her head in from the kitchen. “Robin, don't you want to wash up?” 

After she showered, Robin changed into a pair of Pj’s and came out to find a makeshift bed set up for her on the couch. Despite the unfamiliar environment, she was asleep in an instant and was waking up to the sound of power tools and the smell of bacon.  

Robin opened her eyes and stretched. She was half startled by her surroundings and then quickly remembered the events of the night before. The sound of gunfire and the image of her uncle falling flooded her mind. The girl brought her knees to her chest and tried desperately not to start crying. Crying would not bring her uncle back. The was a thump at her feet, and Robin looked up to see the stoutly Asian woman touting a plate of bacon and a glass of orange juice. Robin smiled weakly up at her.  

“You really did go through hell last night didn't you,” the older woman said handing Robin the glass of juice, which the girl quickly downed. Then the girl began chomping on the bacon which Kokoro offered. 

“You’ll be happy to hear our boy got out this morning,” the woman continued. “Apparently the FBI has taken over jurisdiction and is throwing out the case… you wouldn't happen to know anything about that would you?”  

Robin stared at the woman slowly comprehending was she just said. Their boy got out… their boy got out… Franky! That meant Franky was on his way back here. Robin pressed her greasy hands to her cheeks and looked down at her purple frilly pajamas. She couldn't let him see her like this.  

Kokoro chuckled at the young woman's sudden distress. “Ah, to be young,” she chuckled. “ The washroom is open if you need to use it.”  

Robin grabbed a change of clothes out of her bag and dashed to the bathroom. As she was washing her face the sound of power tools suddenly stopped, shortly followed by a loud holler of a familiar voice.  

Robin felt her heart skip a beat. It had been over a week since she last spoke with the older boy. She was nervous. She could hear him speaking with Tom outside and she peeked through a crack in the washroom door just in time to see him walk in and hug Kokoro. He looked towards the washroom and she flinched. She wasn't in her pj’s anymore, but she still wasn't anywhere near presentable. She frantically began brushing hair while watching her friend wander around the kitchen eating and complimenting kokoro’s cooking. He glanced towards the washroom again. Did he know she was in there? 

Once Franky had finished up the bacon he casually strolled over to the girl’s hiding spot and opened the door.  

Franky’s eyes grew wide as he stared at Robin holding her hairbrush. The girl could see his ears growing red as he abruptly closed the door on her.  

“Monster baa-san!” Franky yelled. 

Robin felt a twinge of irritation at his seemingly unenthusiastic reaction, but she supposed she deserved it a little bit after getting him in such trouble.  

There was the sound of mumbling outside, but Robin could hardly hear it over the ringing in her ears. What was going on? She began to reach for the doorknob when the door flew back open and Franky wrapped his arms around her.  

Girl pressed her face against his chest, grateful for the comfort. She could feel the thudding of his heart against her cheek. Then she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled herself closer. 

“I'm so sorry,” she whispered. “I shouldn't of said anything! I didn't know-“ 

She was quieted by a light pat on the head. “I'm sorry,” she heard him murmur. “I'm the one who was reckless. You're just a kid; I know you were just trying to help.” 

Robin buried her face deeper in his chest, trying hard to bite back tears, something about being around Franky just brought them out of her.  

“But why are you here?” Franky asked, pushing her away just enough to study her face. “The FBI said that they were looking for you. What happened?” 

Robin looked down at the ground, gripping the edges of her top tightly. 

“They took my uncle,” She said. “I don't know if he’s dead or not. They shot him. I don't know why they’d be looking for me-“ 

Franky nodded and patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. There was the loud rumble of a what sounded like a truck from outside, followed by a distinct barking of orders. 

Robin looked up at Franky. Fear of betrayal causing her heart to race. The young man’s face was alert, and in his eyes the girl could see him running through calculations. 

The boy  gently pressed her back into the bathroom and closed the door behind them and locked it.  

“Do you trust me?” He whispered. She silently nodded. “Alright. Get in the shower.” 

She did and watched as Franky lifted up part of the floor to reveal a crawl space. He gestured from her to crawl space. It was dark and dirty, but it was better than being caught, so quietly and obediently she crawled and watched as the young man closed the floor above her. 

From the other end of the crawl space, there was the echo of  multiple footsteps. They approached till they were almost right above her hiding spot. Then there was the sound of them shaking a large wooden object, probably the bathroom door. The pipes squealed as she heard the toilet flush. There was the muted sound of Franky’s then the agents’ voices as a light number of steps circled above her. Then, after a heart racing  few minutes, the footsteps began to retreat back the front of the house and out. After a few silent seconds, there was loud popping sound and Franky pulled Robin out of the floor. 

“ I need you to wait right here now, while they are searching the perimeter okay,” Franky said lightly pushing down on her shoulders indicating the she sit on top of the trapdoor in the floor. “Also, sorry, about the smell, I actually had to let out a stinker.” Robin raised her eyebrows in disbelief “It was the only way I could keep from looking in here too long!” 

The boy gently smoothed her hair before slipping out of the bathroom and closing the door. “I'll be right back.” 


	7. Town

Once the agents had left, Franky and Robin found themselves sitting on the couch, talking as usual. Nearby, Iceberg was drawing blueprints while Kokoro wearily watched them from the kitchen. Robin felt self-conscious with so many eyes on her. Her cheeks began turning red. 

“You feeling alright?” The boy asked her, lifting a hand to her forehead. She leaned away from him, for the first time not wanting him to touch her. Touching meant trouble. 

Franky seemed to look confused for a second but accepted her wishes. Then the young man stood and stretched.  

“Oi, Baa-San, I'm going to change,” he said as he headed into one of the bedrooms. “These clothes feel  nasty.” 

“That's fine,” the old woman said dismissively. Then once the bedroom door closed the woman looked up and looked back at Iceberg. “Wait- you don't think he’d…” 

Iceberg leapt to his feet and Kokoro quickly stashed her cooking. The two of them both rushed to the bedroom door where Franky had gone.  

“Nmmaa… Flunky! You aren't thinking of wearing what I think you are right?” Iceberg called. 

“Why shouldn't I? It's my house!” Franky’s muffled voice yelled back. 

“Franky, think about your friend,” Kokoro pleaded.  

“She’ll be fine! I’ve been stuck in hell for a whole goddamn week! I'm wearing what I want.” 

Then the door opened to reveal Franky standing proudly in a open Hawaiian shirt and speedo.  

“There! Are you scandalized?” He demanded, forcefully. 

Robin felt the blood drain from her face. She wasn't exactly sure what to think. She had certainly seen more explicit images of a man before, but this was the least dressed anyone she had know had been in person. She just sat in silence staring at his abs, praying that her eyes did not wander lower. 

“See, she’s fine,” Franky said walking to his own drafting table. 

And she was fine, or at the very least Robin was determined to be so. She looked at Kokoro and Iceberg who were clearly studying her skeptically. Robin felt her face starting to grow hot, as Kokoro gave her a knowing grin and a thumbs up. 

“You’ll get used to it,” Iceberg assured her. 

And he was right. As the day went on Robin did grow more accustomed to Franky’s new style, or more of lack of, dress. She and Franky talked while he drafted, and he let her watch as he helped Tom sand and grease parts in the hangar. Then at the end of the day they all went in and ate dinner together while watching TV, occasionally gathering before bed to play board games or watch VHS tapes. Everything was just… normal. 

There was never any discussion about whether or not Robin was staying; Kokoro simply  moved all of the girl’s things to a small cabinet in her room. Robin helped clean the dishes, while Franky and Iceberg bickered over what the next project should be, which ultimately ended in Iceberg pulling the seniority card. All the while Tom just laughed as he sketched at his table, which made Robin smile too. 

Thus the days passed. Robin would help Kokoro around the house, while the boys worked in the hangar. They had all agreed that it would probably be best if Robin didn't leave the house until things died down a bit. The school kept sending representatives to try to convince Tom to send Franky back to school, forcing the family to hide Robin until they left. Each time they came, Tom would pleasantly explain that Franky was now an adult and he had no intention of sending him back to that prison. 

Her uncle’s death made the news. They claimed he had been pilfering secrets from the government to send to Russia through a sleeper agent he had brought over with him: her. She even made it onto America’s Most Wanted one night while they were all sitting around eating dinner. They were able to laugh a little bit at how over the top the story was, but everything got quiet once the narrator started talking about how she had convinced her lover to viciously attack and hospitalize three good old America youths, who had been lured by the Russian beauty. Franky let out a throaty cough and chugged the rest of his soda. He stood up from the table, dumped his dishes in the sink, and retreated to his room. 

Iceberg gave Robin a questioning look to which she could only shrug. Though they had spent a lot more time together over the past few weeks than they ever had in school, the girl had started to feel more and more like Franky was hiding things from her. There was one incident a couple of days before when she had walked in on him sketching a person instead of his usual ships or contraptions. Then there was the day a couple before that, when he had all together banned her from watching him work in the hangar. It was weird. 

The next day though Franky was back to his usual, jovial self, singing in the shower and sliding around the room like he was in _Risky Business_.  

While Robin was washing the morning round of dishes he walked up with a smug grin and something hidden behind his back. 

“Hey, you wanna go outside today?”  

The question came as a surprise to Robin, she had gotten so used to life in the hangar that she hadn't really considered it lately. 

“Wouldn't that be dangerous?” She asked. “They did show my picture on TV last night.” 

Franky shook his head.  

“That's exactly why it's safe,” he explained. “No one would expect to see you out in about after that… especially not in THIS!” 

He held out a pair of fake glasses and cowboy hat.  

“You really think that’s going to work?” She said flatly.  

“Well, yeah,” he answered. “What's more American than a cowboy hat? Plus, I have some errands to run, and some fresh air will do you good.” 

Robin raised her eyebrows skeptically at that, but he was probably right about the fresh air. So, she threw on one of his Hawaiian shirts along with a pair of her own jeans and the disguise. Franky opted to just wear his usual speedo, as they climbed into the truck and sped off.  

Robin looked out the window blissfully as they passed rolling hills and farmland. When she stopped to think about it, this was the first time she had actually gotten to see what the area outside of their home looked like.  

After a couple of minutes they pulled up to what looked like a scrapyard, and The pair hopped out of the truck. A petite man who looked only a few years older than them,  with a tan complexion and polo shirt, came out to greet them. 

“Hey, hey! Franky!,” the man called, giving the young man a hug around the waist and a high five. “What’s up my brother?” 

“Just the usual trouble,” he responded casually. “How’s Pauly?” 

“He’s good. He’s good,” The small man then turned his eyes on Robin. He looked her up and down, before shooting her a wink. “How about you, beautiful?” 

Franky immediately put himself between the girl and the man.  

“So What's her story,” the man asked trying to look past Franky.  

“Too young for me, so she’s too young for you,” Franky said, backing up so his body covered her even more. 

His legs lightly brushed her hands, and Robin stared at the young man’s back. It felt weird hearing him talk about her that way. Their age difference was only something that she ever really considered whenever she caught herself staring at the young man’s abs or when they uncomfortably close like they were now. 

“Now, let’s start talking parts. I don't have all day, ‘Romeo’,” he said. 

“Always wanting parts; never wanting love,” the man complained mockingly as he began walking back towards the shed at the front of the lot. “I swear, Franky, one of these days We need to get you laid.” 

Franky laughed as he followed him. “Keep telling yourself that, Jackie. You know I'm too SUPER for any of the girls you bring around.” 

The men spent a good half hour pouring over parts lists, negotiating prices, and loading stuff into the truck’s bed, while Robin watched attentively. After that they hit a few more stops: a small farmers market, a glass blower’s shop, a lumber yard with a particularly rambunctious set of triplets. To the girl’s surprise, everywhere they went they were greeted with the same warmth and humor that they had been met with at Jackie’s. Franky was actually a bit of a social butterfly. In fact, with each stop, Robin felt herself growing into a little bit of one as well. 

On their way home, out the side view window, Robin spotted a beautiful field covered in flowers. She placed a hand  on  Franky’s shoulder  and pointed. He looked from the window to her, before smirking and letting out a sigh.  

He pulled the truck over to the side of the road and watched as Robin hopped out.  

“So you do like things that aren't dark,” he chuckled, heading over to the field as well, where the girl was staring mystified over the sight. “Who knew.” 

“Is there anyone who doesn’t like flowers?” She asked, wading into the stocks of wildflowers.  

Franky shrugged, and sat down on the grass.  

“I guess not really,” he admitted. “Though I can’t really imagine Dumberg enjoying them.” 

Robin laughed. “I bet he’d say the same thing about you.” 

“You think so?” Franky asked. He paused for a moment as he watched the wind blow through her hair. “What's your favorite kind of flower?” 

The girl stopped and looked around for moment in thought. 

“Butterworts,” she answered finally.  

Franky cocked a brow at her. “Butterworts?” 

She nodded, a serene look spreading across her face.. “Genre: Pinguicula… Light purple and pink flowers… They like to eat knats and moths.” 

Franky chuckled. “Yeah, that sounds more like you.” 

Robin grinned mischievously. “I like normal flowers too.” 

“Oh yeah,” the boy shot back. “What's your favorite of those.” 

“I like lilies,” she replied. “What about you? What kind of flowers do you like?” 

The blue haired young man thought about it for a second, leaning back.  

“I'm not sure if they count,” he said. “But I think dandelions are my favorite… It’s just amazing how you can have the most unlikely place for a plant to live and... Boom! There’s a dandelion just growing like there’s no problem. I admire their willpower.” 

He looked up at Robin whose eyes were completely transfixed on him. He shifted uncomfortably, before getting up and climbing back in the truck.  

“Well, come on,” he grumbled. “We better take hurry back to the hangar.” 

Robin quickly plucked a handful of flowers before running back to the truck. Once she climbed into the cab she began sifting through the flowers until she found the one she wanted and it placed it in Franky's hair. The man scowled, as she giggled and placed another one in his hair while he put the truck in drive.  

By the time they had gotten home, Franky's hair looked like a perfume ad. Iceberg was laughing so hard he actually fell out of his chair. Everyone was slightly worried that Tom was having a heart attack after he saw it. Kokoro mentioned how lovely she thought it was, and from that point on "Franky's Flower Hair" became a tradition every time he took Robin out with him. 


	8. Couple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Some Graphic descriptions of Violence are contained in this chapter.

Weeks turned into months with no sign of the FBI. The indefinite period where they were away from institutionalized education had begun to feel completely normal. Franky found a second job, hauling lumber at his friend's yard, to make a little extra cash, and the family had all agreed that with all the craziness that had gone on with Mar Sept, that it was best for him just to test for his GED. After all, he knew all the math stuff already, and Robin could help him with all the language and reading portions. So, every night after Franky came home, he and Robin would sit on the couch and read together. 

Once winter came, the time that the two spent together increased again, as Robin wanted to go out in the snow every chance she could get. Christmas was filled with laughter and love, along with a particularly awkward moment when someone snuck mistletoe into the living room. Nobody kissed, but it certainly left Robin red in the face. February came. Franky earned his GED, and Robin turned fifteen with no incident.   

Valentine's day felt like a bad omen. The started out normally, Robin was helping cook and Franky helping Tom out in hangar with a new experimental rocket fuel, when there was a mysterious visitor. Franky noted the man was wearing dark black everything and was creeping around the hangar's main door. He canceled the plans he had made with Robin to take her out shopping and insisted that she not leave the house at all for the next few weeks. Tom was in agreement. 

The next day a letter arrived without a postmark that simply said, "We know she's here." 

 "What do you think it means," Iceberg asked stroking his chin pensively.  

The family was gathered around the table to discuss their next course of action. Tom was quiet, and Kokoro had hit the bottle early that night. Franky was shaking, and Robin just felt ill. Things had been going so well over the past few months; she was sure she had been careful not to be spotted. How did they know she was here? 

"Maybe it's a bluff," Tom murmured. "Perhaps they are trying to get us to accidentally admit guilt." 

Franky slammed his fist on the table. "Damn them," he whispered with a forcefulness Robin had not seen since the incident that led them to this point. "What if they aren't bluffing? I've taken her out before. What if someone recognized her?... Dammit." 

She wanted to reach out a hand to calm the young man down, but her body was too numb to do much of anything. Fortunately Tom was there to step in for her. 

"Calm down, Franky. Freaking out does nothing to help our predicament," he said calmly. "Think about it, if they know she is here, why did they send us a note, instead of just coming to capture her themselves? It doesn't make any sense." 

At this point Kokoro chimed in. "I think Tom's right. We should just wait and see what happens." 

Franky shook his head and stood up. He went over to Robin, grabbed her arm, and began dragging her towards the bedroom she shared with Kokoro. 

"What are you doing?" She grumbled. 

"We're packing," he answered simply.  

"I thought the plan was to stay put," she said.  

Franky closed the door behind them and tossed her backpack on the bed. “Yeah, well plans change.." 

There was something more tense about his demeanor than usual. His muscles were tight and pronounced as if he was prepared to fight at any second. His eyes were wild, like an animal's. Robin lifted a hand to his cheek, hoping to perhaps ease his nerves just as he had so often helped to ease her own. He froze. 

She was surprised at how much softer this skin was than that of his hands. She ran her fingers down his jawline, running into tiny bumps of stubble on the way down. As she reached his chin, his hand grabbed hers. She looked up into his eyes. They were soft, sad. Robin suddenly felt like she couldn't breath. 

With a gentle tug Franky lifted her fingers to his lips and held them there. They were warm, just like his breath which tumbled from his nostrils and the growing blush in her cheeks. Franky closed his eyes, and pulled away, moving her hand to his forehead and letting a frustrated groan. 

"I'm sorry," he grumbled, clutching her hand tightly. "Please don't hate me... just pack your things." 

Then he let go and began to walk away. 

"No," Robin said, feeling a  sudden surge of strength wash over her. He stopped. "I don't want to leave. I like it here." 

His fist hit the wall. "You have to leave!"  

"No!" She screamed. Tears were running down her cheeks, but Robin stood firm. "No!" 

Seconds later Franky was rummaging through the dresser drawers, pulling out anything that looked like it belonged to the girl and tossing it on the bed.  Once he had cleared out the drawers that were hers, he went over to a bookshelf in the corner and began unloading books. Robin attempted to seize his arm, but the man was too strong for her, so she began hitting him instead. However, the man ignored her blows, picking up a small stack of books and placing them in the backpack. 

"I don't want to!" She cried, pulling at the back of his shirt. She collapsed to her knees and latched herself to his thigh. Franky gently tried to shake her off. "Stop... Please!" 

At that moment the door crashed open, to reveal a hulking Tom. The look in his eyes made the young man turn to stone, and, in an instant, Tom had crossed the room and struck a powerful blow across Franky's cheek, knocking him to the ground.  

Robin's tears stopped as her sadness was suddenly replaced with shock and horror. She clambered to the young man's side, cradling his swollen face in his hands. She looked up at Tom, to see tears streaked the usually jovial man's cheeks. 

"Nobody forces anyone in this house!" He bellowed. Franky groaned, as he attempted to sit up. "I don't care how much you love her!" 

Robin's heart stopped. There it was again. Why did everyone keep saying that? It was the joke at every holiday, every late night, every single moment that Kokoro would tease her. Why did they keep saying that he loved her? They were friends, and she loved being with him... more than anybody else actually. He made her laugh, he made her jump, he made her smile. He protected her, held her. She loved everything about him, but it couldn't actually mean anything romantic could it? Surely there's no way that was it. 

She looked at Franky, one thought streaking through her mind. _Well?_  

As if to answer her question his emotions played easily across his face: affection... sadness... shock... 

 GUILT. 

Robin's mind suddenly started to race at a million miles per minute. As if driven by a mind of its own, her body stood and began packing her backpack. She could feel their pitying gazes on her as she worked. 

"Robin," she heard Tom says softly. "You don't have to do this." 

But she did. She knew she did; her body knew she did.  

There was a knock on the front door.  

Robin continued to pack. 

There was another, louder knock. 

"This is the police," a voice said. "will the owner of this residence please open up." 

Kokoro placed a hand on Tom's shoulder. "Let's just leave them be," she said, before turning to the front door. "Coming!" 

Tom let out a sigh and retreated to the living room, leaving Franky and Robin alone in the dark and silence.  

The young man placed a hand on her arm.  

"Robin," he whispered. She pulled her arm away. "Robin, it's not like that, please." 

She scowled at him, threatening to cry again. 

"Look, it's not like I was purposefully trying to hide it from you," he pleaded. He then attempted to touch her arm again. She shied away and began zipping up her bag. "Robin..." 

She turned on him.  

"Franky," she hissed. "Let me make some thing very clear… I don't know what that is supposed to  mean. I don't understand what this whole 'loving' thing is. The only person who I've ever experienced anything similar with was my uncle. I never had friends before you... Or if I did, I have no idea what it felt like." 

She allowed Franky to wipe a tear off of her face. Through the door she could hear the muffled sounds of Tom and the officer talking, but when Franky stared into her eyes none of that seemed to matter.  She licked her lips and took a deep breath. 

"So, I don't know if I love you," she continued. "I just know, that I feel confused when you touch me, and that nobody in my entire life has made me feel this happy, and that I want to make you that happy."  

His face was creeping ever closer to hers, but, despite the fact her heart was racing, Robin wasn't scared. 

"And... If I didn't know any better I would worry that I was going to have a panic attack. And..." She breathed.  

The tip of his nose gently brushed hers, causing her eyelids to flutter closed.  

"And I don't want to ever lea-" 

Franky's lips were warm and moist, and Robin suddenly felt as though she was filled with the scent of graphite, mint, and wood-shavings. She placed a hand on his cheek and could feel his muscles smile. Robin felt like she was being put into a trance. 

A sudden gunshot snapped her back to reality.  

"Sir! Are you sure there aren't other people in this house?" she heard the officer demand. "If you don't tell me, I will be forced to search this premises!" 

Robin gasped, looking Franky who looked just as breathless. The young man picked up her backpack, and headed towards the door. The young woman caught his arm as he passed. 

"What are you doing?" 

"One!" The officer yelled. 

"I don’t know," Franky whispered, tersely ruffling his hair in frustration. "If I go out there, there's chance they won't come in to look for you." 

"Two!" 

Franky quickly kissed her on the forehead, and grabbed the door handle. "Wish me luck." 

"Three!" 

"Woah!" The young man exclaimed as he swung out the door with his hands. "So sorry. What seems to be the problem officer?" 

The rather overweight officer pointed his weapon at Franky, who raised arms even higher, dropping the backpack. The police officer then retrained his weapon on Tom. 

"We received a domestic disturbance call. Caller said it sounded like a young female was being assaulted," the man said, carefully glancing from Franky to Tom. "Now, I know that there have been reports of young black-haired woman regularly spending time with you, and I just want to make sure she is safe." 

Franky nodded and held out a hand towards the doorway. "Honey," Franky said stiffly, eliciting a series of raised eyebrows. "Why don't you come out here?" 

Robin was hesitant, but she knew that Franky would never put her in harm's way, unless it was necessary.  She slowly exited the room and went straight to his side.  

When the officer looked her over, he was forced to double take. His eyes grew wide, and he began shaking. Franky quickly put himself between her and the armed man, as he once again switched targets.  

With one hand the officer grabbed the radio on his collar and began yelling codes. 

“I have eyes on fugitive Robin Nikov,” the man said. “Requesting back-up. I repeat. I have eyes on Robin Nikov-“ 

Tom placed himself behind the man and hit him with a chair, causing the officer the faint. He then tossed Franky a set of keys.  

“Quick,” he said. “Take Robin and go.” 

The young man nodded, grabbing the girl’s backpack and hand.  

The couple bolted out the door, through the hangar, over to the pick-up. In the distance there was the sound of sirens. Franky yanked the door open and pushed Robin inside before going around the side and climbing in himself. The engine roared to life, and they went tearing down the dirt road. 

As the scenery flew by, Robin found herself unable to stop shaking. Franky's face showed strain as he watched the road. Everything had happened so quickly the girl barely had time to process it all. She felt like there were so many questions she should be asking but her mind was completely blank.  

Warm fingers wrapped themselves around her forearm. She closed her eyes, as her heart began to calm down. She took a deep breath, filling her nostrils with the scent of dust, sweat, and grease. 

Suddenly time felt as if it had slowed down. Robin opened her eyes to see fire coming from in front of the truck’s hood. She looked at Franky. Panic. The veins in his arms bulged as he turned the wheel hard to the left. The cabin lurched, and the world started tilting. 

The engine squealed. Robin lifted her arms to block her face. Glass shattered. The wind was knocked from her lungs. The airbags deployed, knocking her head back roughly against the seat. The world around her was red, like a sea of calamity. Her ears were ringing. Smoke felt like the world's only scent. 

Robin was sideways suspended in the seat. She looked below her to see a bloodied Franky shaking his head, blearily brushing glass off himself. Then a moment of clarity. A fire still burned in the engine. Franky rapidly unbuckled his seatbelt and pulled himself into a crouch. 

"Open the door!" She heard Franky's muffled voice yell.   

Robin attempted to push the door open, but it quickly fell back. Franky stood and helped her as the cabin began to fill with smoke. As soon as the door was open, the young man undid Robin's safety belt, lowering her into his arms. He boosted her out and followed as she tumbled off the side of the car onto the gravel.  

Around her the fields were ablaze. It was the very image of Dante's vision of hell. Bloody hands pressed her firmly towards an opening in the inferno. She broke into a jog, then a run, led by instinct to escape the fire.  

Once they broke through the wall they were greeted by the sight of two black SUV's and armed men. From behind one of the vehicles, a squirrely looking man with scraggly hair made his approach. Robin froze. She recognized his face. Franky moved Robin into a defensive crouch. 

"Hand over the girl," principal Spandam demanded, pointing a shotgun at them.  

There was a loud explosion behind them causing Robin to cower. 

"What do you want with her?" Franky yelled, covering her. 

The oily skinned principal shifted his aim to Franky's face, slowly walking closer. 

"Mister Cutty," Principal snickered, holding open a badge with his picture and the letters CIA. "Let me introduce myself as Agent Spandam. It's so good to see you again. We missed you at school. Why does it not surprise me you decided to protect your little girlfriend? Now hand her over..." 

"No!" 

The tip of the shotgun drooped towards the ground. 

 _Crack!_  

Franky's eyes grew wide as he slumped over to the side, onto the ground. The large man attempted to prop himself back up but quickly fell again with a cry of pain. Robin, looked down. She covered her mouth to keep from screaming. At the end of Franky's arm where his left hand once sat was a mangled mess of blood, bone, and tissue. His hand lay on the ground just a few inches away, clinging to the rest of his body by only a few strips of skin and tendon. She looked back up at Agent Spandam who was once again aiming at Franky's head. 

"Now," the older man sneered. "I'll give you till the count of three. One..." 

A spark of rage filled Robin's gut. In her mind's eye she could still vividly see her uncle standing on the porch in front of their apartment. She could hear the shot which killed him. She could smell the blood and smoke around her now. By all means she should be descending into chaos, but at that moment all she felt was clarity. This was it. It was over. 

"Two..." 

She slowly stood and stepped in front of her friend. Her hands clenched into fists. 

"I'll go," she hissed. "Don't worry about him. Let's just leave. I'll go." 

Spandam looked at her, and slowly lowered his shotgun. His disgusting grin grew. With one shaky bruised hand, he reached out and seized her arm. She flinched, but refused to pull away. He gave her a light tug over to his side as he looked back down at Franky.  

"Robin," she heard Franky rasp.  

She looked away. 

"You're lucky," the man spat. "It looks she likes you too… Enough to spare you at least." 

Then he kicked a cloud of dust onto the young man, before turning to the other armed men.  

"Give him a knife and a rag," he said. "We have the girl. Maybe he'll kill himself." 

Then Agent Spandam dragged Robin over to one of the SUV's, put her in handcuffs, and pressed her inside.  He shut the door and rapped on the window, taunting her. She looked away from him; it was all she could do at this point. She had saved Franky; that was the important thing. The vehicle roared to life, and Robin looked up at Franky for one last time, as he and the growing flames faded into the distance.  

 _I'm sorry Franky… Goodbye..._  


	9. Single

\-----------13 YEARS LATER---------- 

The blue haired man, drummed on the table of the diner where he sat with a fork. With another hand placed a fry in his mouth. "Bio-mechanical Man" blasted through a set of earbuds, as sweat began pooling around the lanyard which hung around his neck.  

Despite the slight discomfort of the heat, it was these humid Hampton days which Franky had come to enjoy the most. A tall, proportioned woman in jean shorts and a cowboy hat passed by the diner's porch. The man traced the shape of her body with his eyes. Yes, he very much enjoyed these days. 

Leaning forward, Franky seized a burger in his good hand and took a bite. This diner had the best burgers and view in town, not to mention it was relatively close to his work. His second favorite set of letters ran across the top of his badge holder: "N", "A", "S", "A". 

As he began to lean in for another bite, Franky noticed a waxy, string bean of a man running towards the tall dark haired woman who had just passed. Perhaps a late date? Nah, she was way out of that guys league. The woman stopped and turned towards him.  

She had brown almond shaped eyes, which sparkled and danced in the sunlight and a straight, defined nose. High cheekbones framed her face perfectly all the way down to her delicate chin. Her skin was kissed with tan; her lips were tinted a deep rose. It was the echo of a face that had haunted his nightmares for the past thirteen years. 

Franky's mouth dropped open. His entire body went numb, as if he had suddenly been submerged in ice. The burger fell limply onto his tray. 

"Robin..." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Stay Tuned for Act II (currently being written) ;D


	10. Point

Ridididididididididididididi~

Franky rubbed his brow as he sat up in bed. The white walls of his apartment were blinding in the morning sunlight. He shielded his eyes with his nub and slammed his hand down on his screaming alarm clock. People were always telling him they couldn't understand how he coped with losing his hand, but they didn't have his skills. He stroked the mechanical forearm which lay resting on his bedside table.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he groaned.

He showered, made some toast, and brushed his teeth. Then he strapped on his arm, popped the cap on a can of cola, and was on his way. 

When he arrived at the lab, Franky was greeted by a salty haired man in a suit, that he distinctly recognized from the education department. The man straightened up as Franky looked him over. 

“Hello, Mister Cutty,” the man stated. “Would it be possible for me to borrow a minute of your time.”

Franky glanced around the lab, looking for his intern and assistants. He didn't see of them, but that wasn't too surprising considering the number of large robotic set-ups they had.

“Sure,” the large man said returning his attention to his guest. “But how did you get in-”

A curly haired, caramel-skinned boy popped his head out from one of the larger animatronic set-ups. 

“He threatened to not extend my internship,” the boy said, before ducking back to whatever he was working on.

Franky rubbed the back of his neck. “Shit. Is it that time of year again already?”

The older looking man adjusted his tie and nodded. 

“Mister Cutty. The other department heads and I have been talking,” he said. “And several of them feel it would best if… well… you would do the honors in helping with-”

“What?” Franky interjected, pointedly holding up his artificial hand. “Scaring the crap out of the newbies?”

The man shrank back. “Well… yes.”

The large blue-haired man turned towards where his intern was hiding. “Oi! Usopp! Is it really that intimidating?”

There was silence. And then a cough from behind the equipment.

“Absolutely not,” the young man said. “Totally doesn't make you look like a terminator.”

Franky cocked an eyebrow; he wasn't a very convincing liar. The man let out a sigh and turned back to his visitor.

 “Sure, I guess,” he muttered. “I don't understand why you don't just ask those psychos in Dr. Ivankov’s lab? I'm sure they would love to scare some fresh meat.”

“Well to be honest,” the man replied. “We felt they might be a bit too excited…”

Franky let out a hearty laugh and patted the man's shoulder with his robotic hand, eliciting a grimace, which only made Franky laugh harder. It was so pleasing to watch people squirm when confronted with his “disability.” 

Something that he had come to notice over the years was how uncomfortable humans became when confronted with the maimed and unnatural. As someone had been outcast for being different already, Franky reveled in it. Anybody who was worth being friends with was going to be his friend no matter what, so there wasn't anything left to really bother him. Well, there was the tingling. The itching. The occasional sense that he was flexing his own fingers again. However, other than those things, there wasn't anything left to bother him about his situation. 

When he reached the conference room where orientation was being held, it was Franky’s turn to be taken aback though; the new group of interns was what you might call… different. They were all young and vibrant of course, but groups of college students usually were. However, for a group of Langely Research Center interns, some of them seemed kind of, well, dumb. One black-haired boy in particular seemed especially so. He was hanging off of a young man who was decked out in ROTC regalia while a scantily clad red-head yelled at him. There was a boy who looked like he was almost fresh out of middle-school hiding in the corner. Franky would have just assumed he was a child prodigy, if the kid didn't seem to think his full body was covered by the scrawny fichus tree. One moody blonde was looking as if he was about to light up a cigarette inside the building. The man rubbed his temples; this must have been the real reason he had been called in. 

“Oi,” Franky called over the chaos. Heads turned towards him and then back to what they were doing. Franky sighed and unstrapped his arm. Then he lifted his nub in the air. “Oiiii!”

Eyes were suddenly glued on his missing appendage. Faces went slack. The mousy boy in the corner came out of hiding. The black-haired boy dropped to the ground and pointed.

“His hand’s gone!” The boy screamed.

With one smooth stroke the red head had smacked the boy over the head. “Don't point it out you idiot.”

Franky felt a twinge of agitation. He had expected the shock. He had not fully expected them to start yelling about it. He grumbled to himself about how crazy everything was as he began to reattach this arm.

“So, who’s heard about lab safety?” Franky said, looking over the group. Their faces went pale. That was exactly the reaction he had been looking for. He had all of their attention. “If you don't want to end up like me I would consider freshening yourselves up on it. I'm sure you know this already, but most of the materials we work with here are no joke.”

A hand shot up from the black-haired boy.

“If we do lose our hand, can we become a cyborg like you?” He blurted out.

Franky’s mind went blank. What was this kid? Six? He thought he looked dumb, but the lack of social awareness on this kid was equally as astounding. 

“No,” he replied flatly, before pointing towards the ROTC kid. “Why don't we start introductions with you! What’s your name, and what group are you going to?”

The young man crossed his arms, looking away from the group with a scowl. You’d almost think he didn't want to be there. Maybe he was just embarrassed in front of others.

“Roronoa, Zoro,” he grumbled in a deep voice. “Muscular Atrophy research.”

Franky started the group clapping in appreciation of their new comrade’s introduction. So this kid was going to work for Fujitora… That explained a lot; Fujitora used to be in the military and loved bringing in interns who knew how to follow orders. Though there still seemed to be something distinctly rebellious about this kid.

“Well, that’s a stupid name,” he heard someone mutter. 

“Scratch that,” Franky thought. There was something rebellious about all these kids.

Next was the fiery red-head. She winked at the blonde-haired boy, who suddenly seemed to melt, before beginning her introduction.

“Hi. My name’s Nami,” she sang. “I like karaoke, Versace, and topography. And I will be helping with Synthetic Atmospheric Production with Dr. Haredas.”

The group clapped with more enthusiasm, along with the occasional “oooo…” and “ah….”. This girl was clearly an extrovert. The man could definitely see her becoming a leader here someday. 

There were a few other kids before the focus was on the youngster in the back. He looked down at the floor in front of him, panic clearly plastered all over his face. 

“Umm… I…” the kid murmured, shifting his weight nervously. “Tony T. Chopper… um… Neuro-analytics…”

There was stunned silence from the rest of the room. Franky had been right; the boy was a prodigy. Light applause followed after the boy made a short agitated looking bow and thanked everyone.

Then it was the broody blonde, who seemed distinctly less sullen after Nami’s introduction. The young man straightened out his necktie and smiled, suddenly brimming over with suave confidence. 

“Sanji Vinsmoke,” he crooned. “Alternative Nutritional Resources.”

Then he winked at the red-head, whose brows shot up higher than Willy Wonka’s glass elevator. She then let out a clearly amused snort, before clapping slowly with the rest of the group. 

Two more interns introduced themselves, and then it was _that kid’s_ turn. Franky wasn't sure why, but the kid had somehow managed to position himself so he was forced to go last. Usually the kids who hung in the back of the group did so to avoid attention. However, there was nothing timid or quiet about the boy who was now taking a deep breath to speak. 

“My name is Luffy, and I'm going to be the first man to step foot on an asteroid!” The young man boomed. 

There was silence. Then laughter. Even Franky had trouble not letting out a small snort. What the hell was with this kid? Was he insane? He did realize that this wasn’t _that_ NASA base, right? 

Franky cleared his throat, demanding the groups attention again and motioned for them all to quiet down. “What lab are you going to?”

Luffy blinked at him for a second, then gave the most shameless grin Franky had ever seen. 

“Dr. Ivankov’s,” he replied simply.

Oh Lord, this kid really was something else. Ivankov had a bad reputation when it came to the treatment of her interns. Many of them were known to have mysterious bouts of flu-like symptoms and indigestion. The doctor swore it must be her interns' carelessness, and the board was honestly too scared of a lawsuit to get rid of her. How did this kid get wrapped up with her?

Then Franky remembered his surroundings, straightened up, and puffed out his chest. 

“And you all can call me Franky,” he growled, pressing his metal thumb against his sternum. “I head up the Compact Robotics Research here. Remember those cute little arms on the last Mars rover?” A few scattered nods. “We worked with JPL on those.”

He looked to the doorway, where he could see the salty-haired man, patiently waiting, arms crossed. The man nodded to Franky before beginning to make his way over to the group.

Franky cleared his throat again and snapped with his normal hand. 

“But that's enough about me,” he said. “So, I'm going to turn you over to Mister Degas here for more info about your lab assignments.”

Franky then took a step back, allowing Mister Degas to take his place.

“Hello everyone,” Degas said, adjusting his tie. “As Mister Cutty here stated, I’m going to be the one to show you to your respective labs.”

 The interns began to chatter in excitement amongst themselves. 

“However,” the man continued, commanding total silence. “I must let you know first that over the next few weeks you might notice some… well… people in suits of a certain intelligence nature. I do not want you to be concerned; they are merely here to conduct routine check-ins with our scientists here. Nothing more… Don’t engage them, and they won't engage you.” 

Franky scoffed. It was so typical of HR to let temporary workers know about a potential investigation before their own workers. He couldn't fully blame them though; it was no secret that most of  the scientists, including himself, had an extreme distrust of “suits”. They probably would have record level absences due to “illness” if they let the researchers know about the investigation.

“Now!” Dages said with a broad grin. “Who’s ready for the tour?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder that is an AU work of Fiction. I am in no way try to detract from or minimize the hard work of the men and women of NASA.


	11. Variable

Franky found himself to be more popular than he ever desired to be throughout the rest of the week. The feisty red- head, Nami, had become a frequent visitor of his lab, either to talk to him or Usopp. Apparently, the girl was convinced that if she acted cute enough that Franky wouldn't notice her attempting to swipe his copper wire. It took over seven lectures before she finally gave up. After that Nami spent most of her visits complaining about money woes and gossiping with Usopp.  She and the older intern had gone and become best buddies behind Franky’s back at some point. If he didn't know any better he might, think they were secretly crushing on each other.

That obnoxious kid, Luffy, came by practically every day around lunchtime to beg for food and stare at their projects. Every time he did, Franky would spot at least one new set of needle marks on the boy. It was worrisome to say the least, and almost made Franky glad that the investigation was going on. No matter how annoying the kid was sometimes, he didn't deserve to be treated like some sort of lab rat. 

Then there was Zoro, who never came by on purpose, but somehow still managed to barge into the lab at least once a day, before grumbling about how all the doors looked the same and wandering off.

Then one day, just before noon, Franky had another unexpected visitor: a woman, or, at least, what he thought was a woman in a gray suit jacket and pencil skirt. Her dark hair was cropped into a fashionable bob. She was lanky, but clearly also muscular, with too much blush on her cheeks and what appeared to be the ghost of a five'o-clock shadow. She rapped lightly on the side of his door with one long nailed hand.

"Are you Franklin Cutty," she asked in an androgynous voice.  

"It's Franky," the man corrected, sliding the mechanism he was working on into a drawer. "Can I help you out Miss...?"

The woman approached him, swinging what hips she had with extreme confidence.

"Two," she answered, extending a hand. "Miss-ter Two."

Franky's eyebrows raised, as he shook the other man's hand. "My bad. Hope I didn't offend you, Mister Two?"

Franky was certain that this man had to be one of the intelligence agents he had heard about, though he didn't really seem like the FBI's type. He was too noticeable. CIA? CIA just made him think about the past. 

The memory of that woman’s face flashed through his mind. It had been a few days, but it still irked him that he had not been able to get her name. He had attempted to go after her, but his heart was beating so quickly that his hand had refused to drop the diner’s fork. He had attempted to pry it from his fingers, but Franky was of course too good at his job to make a hand with a weak grip. He could have called after her, but he couldn't imagine that a n almost seven foot-tall man with a cybernetic arm wielding a fork would be received to well by the police. So he just sat and watched as she walked away.

It was Mister Two's giggle that snapped him back to reality.

"Don't worry about it, _Franky,_ " the feminine man chuckled, adding a hint of playfulness when he said Franky's name. "If anything, it was quite flattering."

Franky cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. 

"Good," he managed to choke out before the loud clicking of heels drew his attention back to the hallway. 

The brim of a black cowboy hat rounded the corner of the doorway, shortly followed by the face of the woman he had seen outside the diner. Franky's mouth went slack as he stared at her. Her long elegant legs were accentuated by how short her black pencil skirt was. Her dark suit jacket hugged every curve of her body, and her face... still a dead ringer for the girl he once loved. 

Her brown eyes were fixated on him. Stony stoicism was the only expression she wore on her face. The man started to try to speak, but she quickly averted her gaze. Mister Two looked from Franky to the woman. 

"Ah, Miss All Sunday," he purred, eyes intently watching Franky's reaction. "I was just about to talk to Mister Cutty, here... However, I think he would much rather talk to you."

"Mister Two, surely you are not attempting to issue me an order" the woman replied in a smooth, almost sultry voice. 

Mister Two froze. The confidence in his gate was quickly replaced by a semblance of fear and respect. Clearly, she was his superior. Franky let out an impressed whistle, causing the woman to shoot him an unamused look. 

The man could feel his heart begin to race. He was sure "Miss All Sunday" was Robin, so why was she acting so distant? Was it because of the other man? Or did she really not remember him after all these years.

"Anyways," the woman continued, shifting her attention back to the guilty looking Mister Two. "I thought we weren't covering this wing until next week."

Mister Two flinched. "Well, you know how I just love to make new friends..."

"Indeed, I do," she said. 

Then, as she began to look like she was about to leave, Franky found himself stepping towards her. "Wait-! Uh..."

She was staring daggers at him. The man's mouth suddenly felt dry. He coughed and straightened up to his full height. 

"Is Sunday your actual name? Or... Uh... Is there some other-"

"That would be classified," Miss All Sunday snapped. "And even if it wasn't, it is rather forward to think I would just give my name to you."

Franky was speechless. The woman smiled. She gestured for Mister Two to come and once again turned away.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mister Cutty," she said coolly. "Until some other time."

 With the sound of clicking heels she and the crossdresser disappeared down the hall. Franky closed the door to his lab and let out a frustrated grumble.

"Wow, you really shoot for the top don't you," Ussop said standing up from behind the debris on his workstation. 

Franky nearly leapt out of his skin. He had been so focused on Miss All Sunday that he had totally forgotten his intern was in the lab. He scowled at the young man, before returning to his workbench and grabbing a screwdriver.

"You aren't one to talk," he countered back. 

"Yeah but the difference is I got the girl," the intern gloated. Then his mood suddenly shifted to depressed. "Even if she is one thousand, two hundred and twenty-seven miles away..."

Franky stared at his young protégé. "Have I ever told you how creepy it is that you always know that?"

A paperweight suddenly came flying at Franky's head. With a deft motion the man caught it and slammed it onto his workstation. 

"Shit! Are you trying to kill us all?" he yelled. "What part of highly volatile materials do you not remember?"

"I'm Sorry!" The young man cried, cowering back behind his junk. Then a moment of pause. "Wait... that's just the test lab!" 

Franky laughed, as a crumpled wad of paper came flying over the wall and smacked him in the shoulder. 

 "But, seriously," he said dropping to a threatening tone. "It's okay to have fun, but the second you break something in here, you're gone."

"Yes, Sir!"

"Good, boy," Franky said, tightening the final screw on a small contraption in his hands. "Now let's go break some rocks!"


	12. Parallel

Franky's interview with the intelligence agents was uneventful. Mister Two returned with a different woman, some cute young thing, with faded blue hair, named Wednesday. He was beginning to sense a theme with these names. 

They asked him all sorts of questions about his current work at the lab, where he went to school, his relationships with the other researchers, et cetera. They even eventually worked up the courage to ask him about his hand. 

Once the questioning was over Franky headed back to his lab to make adjustments to the pocket-sized drill he had been working on the other day, as it had worked so well it burned out the motor. As he got settled he noticed the familiar sound of whispering coming from behind Usopp's work wall. 

"Don't you ever work?" Franky whined, causing Nami's judgemental stare to peep out from behind the clutter. 

"I asked Doctor Haredas for a break," she said. Then she suddenly started beaming. "Wait! Were you just with the agents?"

Franky raised his eyebrows at the girl. He swore she was one of the most nosey people he had ever met. She knew pretty much every other interns' secrets. He was almost certain that she hunting for potential blackmail. He started writing down an equation, only to be interrupted by the red-head slamming her hands on his desk. 

"What?" He growled.

"Wasn't she hot?" Nami asked, leaning on his desk. 

Franky stopped writing. Surely Usopp hadn't told her about the incident the other day. He looked at his intern who was hanging up blueprints. He groaned. No, Usopp totally would have told her.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, resuming his work. 

"Wednesday!" 

Franky looked up at her. There was an almost innocent excitement in her eyes that he had never seen before. The girl sighed. 

"I ran into her in the hall the other day," she said. "And- I don't know. She was just so... cool. She even gave me her number, and I asked her out, but she apparently can't hang out without supervision since I work here and they're investigating-"

Franky's jaw dropped. "You asked her out?"

"That's what I said!" Usopp yelled.

Nami scowled. 

"You have a problem?" She accused.

The older man raised his hands in defense. She wasn't a big girl, but Nami was definitely an intimidating one.

"No, no," he said. "Just impressed. That's all."

 The girl frowned, taking a seat on the edge of Usopp's desk. 

"Anyways. Apparently her superior 'Miss All Sunday' insists on chaperoning, so I was wondering... would you mind coming and keeping her busy?"

Nami then put on her best pout. Her bottom lip quivered. Her eyes were watering dark brown orbs. She was admittedly adorable, but Franky had years of steeling himself against Kokoro's granddaughter. 

"Why not ask Usopp," he said, shooting his intern a glare. "He seems to have plenty of time on his hands."

Usopp let out an overdramatic gasp, and covered his heart. "Are you suggesting I rob you of the chance to eat with your dream woman?"

There were very few times Franky wanted to punch his intern. This was one of them.

Nami's eyes were on him like a lion on a gazelle. "Ew. What? Dream woman?"

"Miss All Sunday. Franky tried to ask for her real name and she totally shot him down," the dark-skinned boy blurted.

The man placed his forehead on his cool aluminum alloy limb. It felt nice on his warm face. Usopp was excitedly recounting the tale of Franky's experience with the agents, much to Nami's amusement. By the end Nami was leaning over him, scribbling something on his paper.

"This is the address," she stated once she finished. "We're meeting there Friday night at 10 pm."

"That's so late," Franky complained. 

"Whatever, old man. You're going. Unless you want everyone to know about your little crush."

And so Franky, the one armed engineer, found himself standing in the middle of a noisy college bar. It had been too long since the last time that he had been at a bar. Smoke filled his nostrils as drunk co-ed's pressed past him. Fortunately he was tall enough that it did not take him long to find Nami who was seated at a table on the far wall. Seated across from her was the blue-haired girl, who was now wearing a skimpy cocktail dress. Next to her wearing a gorgeous black slip dress and, surprisingly enough, a smile was Miss All Sunday. 

Franky gulped. He was considering just leaving. The laughter of young people as they pounded back shots made him feel especially old, and that made him feel like a creep. He could still make it out unnoticed if he left that second.

Nami’s eyes wandered over the room before resting on the man. She smiled and waved at him. Too late; he was trapped.

"Hello ladies," he said as he arrived at the table, eliciting giggles from the two younger women. He looked at Miss All Sunday. Her smile was gone. He extended his good hand to the blue haired girl. "Pleasure to meet you again Miss Wednesday.”

“Nice to meet, you Franky,” the girl replied, shaking his hand. She glanced at Nami, who gave her a thumbs up, then she looked at the other woman at the table. “This is my supervisor, Miss All Sunday.”

Franky extended his right hand to the woman. She looked down at it and then his other hand before giving him a light handshake.

“Yes, we have met before,” Miss All Sunday said, in a smooth seductive voice. “So you go by Franky?”

“Yes,” Franky answered, pulling his, now sweaty, hand away. “I'm glad you remember me…”

Nami snorted. She hid her mouth with one hand and quickly took a sip of her fruity looking cocktail. Wednesday also was giggling. The woman looked at Franky, cocking an eyebrow. He shrugged.

“Mmm,” Nami hummed, setting down her drink. Then she began to rise from her seat. “What would you like to drink? It's on me.”

The man placed a hand on the clearly tipsy girl's shoulder, pushing her back into her seat. He looked to Miss All Sunday who was gracefully sipping a martini. Then he gave the girl a reassuring grin.

"That is very nice of you, but I think I can handle one beer," He said. 

Once he had a drink in hand, he sat down at the table next to Nami, who was slouched over resting her head in her palm. Wednesday took a dainty sip from her drink and smiled, shyly. Miss Sunday, was once again avoiding eye contact with Franky. 

"We should play a game," the red-head suddenly announced. The entire table looked at her. "How about two truths and a lie?”

Nobody particularly agreed to the game, but Nami continued on.

"Try to guess which one the lie is. One: I grew up on an orchard. Two: I used to dress up as a zombie every year to scare the boy scouts. Three: I used to work in a strip club."

Franky watched as pensive looks came across both Wednesday and Sunday's faces. He personally thought the last one was obviously true; even if she wasn't the stripper he could totally see the feisty girl working there. Of the first two he thought he remembered hearing her tell Usopp about growing tangerines once...

"Well?" the girl prompted, looking them over mischievously.

"Is it number one?" Wednesday asked. 

Nami stuck her tongue out. "Bzzz bzzz."

"It's number two," Franky answered before taking a long draw of his beverage. 

Nami clapped her hands together. 

"Wow! Franky, you know me well," she exclaimed. Then she took a large sip of her drink and pointed at the other girl. "Your turn _Wednesday_."

Miss Wednesday appeared to blush and put her hands to her cheeks. 

"Hmmm... let's see," she pondered out loud. Then she seemed to come into some confidence of her own. "Oh! One: I punched my childhood crush in the face. Two: I have a pet duck. Three: it's my birthday tomorrow!"

Miss Sunday smirked, taking another quiet sip from her martini. Franky studied her carefully. She clearly knew which the lie was. Being her supervisor, it was pretty likely that she knew when Wednesday's real birthday was. The man had made his decision.

"Number three," he said. 

Wednesday giggled and shook her head. Nami smirked beside him, and Sunday also seemed quite amused.

"Why do you think we're going out tonight?" The girl teased. 

"Well..." Franky cleared his throat. "Happy early birthday then."

Then Wednesday turned to his comrade and winked. "Which do you think it is."

 "Number two?" She answered, smiling apologetically. Wednesday beamed and whipped out her phone, to show a lock-screen of her holding a yellow and black speckled duck. Nami squealed, grabbing the phone from her. "He's so cute! I've never been so happy to be wrong."

"His name is Carue," the other girl explained.

Miss Sunday smiled serenely to herself as the girls gabbed about pets. Franky frowned. Perhaps it was just a coincidence that she looked like Robin after all. This woman was so relaxed even around so many young people. Now that he thought about it, she could actually be pretty young herself. He had no idea how old she was. 

"Alright, Sunday," Wednesday said. "I went; now it's your turn."

The woman's smile faded as they all turned to look at her. She lifted a finger to her lips, pensively. Then she lowered her hand and smiled. Franky gulped in anticipation.

"Very well," she replied. "One: My first love lost his hand because of me..."

Franky's heart sped up. His mouth was dry, and his left arm ached. It could just be coincidence. It had to just be coincidence. The woman glanced in his direction, eyes flashing. There was something cold and calculating behind them, as if she was testing to see what his reaction would be. The girls were also looking at him.

"Two: I have a shrunken head collection..."

 Another eerie thing that he could see Robin saying.  Franky shifted uncomfortably. He looked away and took a large gulp of beer.

"And Three: Dandelions are my favorite flower."

Memories of all the days he spent with Robin out in the wildflowers came flooding through his memory. Her smile as she put blossoms in his hair. The secret of his favorite flower that he had shared... That settled it.

"Number three," he answered, confident in his response.

Nami laughed nervously beside him. Miss Sunday smiled, eyes dark and daring.

"Is that your final answer?" She taunted.

Franky nodded.

"Then you would be wrong," she responded coyly, never breaking eye contact. "It's number one."

A hot coal planted itself in Franky's stomach at that moment. There was no doubt in his mind now that this was Robin, and she clearly remembered him. Not only that, but she was also challenging him. But why? Didn't she realize how long he had searched for her? Didn't she know how he had worried about what they had possibly done to her?

"Hey, Franky, you okay?" Nami said patting his shoulder. 

The man looked down. His synthetic hand had clenched itself into a fist while he wasn't looking. He willed it to release and gave the girl a big grin. 

"Super," he said. Then he shook his head and looked at Miss Sunday who was staring away at the bar. "It's my turn to go, right?"

Nami, cleared her throat and backed away from him. "Uh... Yeah."

Franky placed his cybernetic arm on the table and put on his best poker face.

"So," he growled. "Number one: My hands have touched rocks on Mars."

Miss Sunday still refused to look at him.

"Two: I have never had a girlfriend."

There was small twitch in the corner of the woman's lips. He was getting somewhere. 

"And number three, Miss All Sunday..." The woman looked at him. "I know your real name."

The woman's eyes grew wide. She pursed her lips. 

"Franky," Nami scolded. "This is supposed to be difficult. It's obviously number three."

Franky grinned, before taking a sip of beer and looking at her. 

"You're right," he laughed. "Guess I'm just not very good at this game."

Miss Sunday studied him warily, as the loud sound of record scratching filled the room and the lighting changed from red to blue. Wednesday's eyes glittered with excitement as she looked around the room. Nami smiled and grabbed her hand across the table.

"Come on, let's dance," she called over the now pounding music. 

Franky and Sunday both watched as the two girls made their way to the dance floor, disappearing among the throng of college students.

"Aren't you supposed to be babysitting?" He asked, smirking; the woman wasn't making eye contact with him.

"I don't particularly care to be propositioned by strangers," she replied simply.

"What if it was me?"

She stared at him. He extended his left hand to her. The woman glanced down at the metal fingers which moved fluidly open and closed. She let out a scoff, but then, to Franky's surprise, clasped his hand in her own. 

He gently led her through the crowd until they had eyes on Nami and Wednesday who were clearly having fun bumping and grinding to the hip hop beats. Meanwhile he and the woman awkwardly stood among the lusty young couples just lightly swaying side to side. Despite his tough demeanor, Franky was usually quite the energetic dancer, but standing next to the woman made him nervous to even step wrong. Then a large young man stumbled backwards pressing the raven-haired damsel into his chest. His face felt like it was on fire. That was when he realized she was still holding his hand. She put her other hand between them as if to press away.

Suddenly there was the sound of high pitched guitars and the music morphed into a mellow salsa beat. Franky seized his opportunity and wrapped his right hand around the woman's waist, pulling her back against him. He studied her eyes as she looked up at him. There was something soft and timid about the way her eyes glistened in the blue light. 

"Do you know how to bachata, _Sunday_?" He asked beginning to lead her in a two-step.

Step, step, step, stop.

"No, but I believe I can learn," she answered, coyly following his lead. "I assume that's what we're doing right now."

His hips rolled against hers as they hit another stop and he rolled her into the opposite direction. He grinned as she reciprocated on the next stop. Her free hand wandered up and around his neck, as the two move in total unity. His hand slid from her lower back to rest on her hip bone. She smiled, and to Franky it was as if he was nineteen again, except better. He pressed his mouth near her ear, taking in the scent of her floral perfume.

Step, step, step, stop.

"Why are we pretending like we're strangers?" he whispered, holding her tighter. 

The woman didn't skip a beat. "I do not know what you could mean."

Their hips rolled in unison as they hit another beat. 

"I'm not an idiot," he responded, a bit louder this time. "That business with the two truths and a lie... As if I could ever forget you." Then he quickly whipped her into a turn and a half dip. "Robin..."

Her gaze went cold as she pressed a hand between them.

"You cannot call me that name," she whispered. "It's dangerous enough that they know we've met."

"Is that why you've been playing games with me? Because it's dangerous?" he said. She attempted to shush him, but Franky's elation and frustration were welling up inside him like a geyser. "I went through five surgeries, nearly died twice, and you think I care if it's dangerou-"

He was cut off by the feeling of her lips pressed against his. They were even softer and warmer than he remembered Suddenly in that moment it felt like every other thing he might have been feeling melted away. His fingers wove themselves through her hair. She clasped his face in her hands.

"Get a room!" Someone yelled, prompting Franky to flip them a very shiny middle finger. 

He and Robin separated. There was something so cold and lonely in her eyes. His hand dropped to her cheek.

“That should give you some closure," she said, backing away. "Now, please forget about me."

Then she went over to where the girls were still dancing and grabbed Wednesday. Franky tried to catch her hand, but she was too fast and he was too numb. He watched as the two of them argued for a second before the they eventually left. Nami stormed over to him. 

"What did you do?" She demanded. When he didn't respond, she looked him over carefully. Anger turned to disgust. "Ew. Are you crying?"

Franky sniffed. He was. He sure was.


	13. Intersection

Franky awoke to sensation of drowning. A large hand pulled him from the water. He gasped for breath.

  
“He look sober yet?” A gruff man’s voice said.

  
“Nah…” a woman’s nasally voice replied.

  
Then the hand shoved him down towards the water once more. Franky swung a punch at the person holding him down. Nub connected with face, making him distinctly aware that his prosthetic was not attached. There was a scream from a woman nearby. The large man opened his eyes.  
On the business end of his nub was a tan dark-haired man in a Hawaiian shirt. To his right was a curly haired woman, with a particularly pronounced nose, in a pink jacket. Franky sighed.

  
“Kiwi, Zambia, what are you two doing here?” He asked, rubbing his head. Better question was, where was he?

  
All around him were stacks of cardboard boxes. The fluorescent lights hurt his eyes, and there was the distinct sound of snoring from somewhere far away. He groaned collapsing into a sitting position on the ground. He felt like he was on a boat.

  
"Oh god... I'm at the shelter aren't I," he groaned

  
"Yeah, bro. Came in here plastered, bitching and moaning about some long-lost love of yours, and passed out," Zambia, the man, explained, crouching next to Franky.

  
"Mozu's at the store getting a cola for you," Kiwi added. Then she nudged the blue-haired man lightly with her hip. "You know we could help you forget all about your little girlfriend if you want..."

  
Franky laughed, lightly pushing her away. "You know, I couldn't take advantage of you girls." Then he felt a wince of pain in his temple. He retrieved his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a pair of singles. "Here, I'll pay you back for the cola."

  
Kiwi turned up her nose and crossed her arms.

  
"Keep your damn money," she said, before throwing him a wink. "We owe you enough already... besides, Mozu and I are looking for our own place now."

  
Franky's brows shot up. "Oh?"

  
"We found ourselves jobs at the cabaret!" Her wavy-haired sister, Mozu, exclaimed as she entered the room carrying a soda. She handed it to Franky, who thanked her. He quickly opened it and took a large gulp. The tension began to leave his head.

  
"Super. And you girls are still going to meetings right?" Franky asked.

  
"Yes, big brother," the two said, clearly trying to poke a bit of fun at him.

  
"I can confirm they've been going," Zambia chimed in.

  
"Good," Franky replied, taking another swig. "Now, where's my arm?"

  
There was silence, as the three exchanged questioning looks. Franky could already tell what the answer was before they even spoke. He put down the bottle and rubbed his temples.

  
"What do you mean?" Zambia said. "You didn't have it on when you got here."

  
Franky groaned and tried to think about what had occurred the night before. He had been at the bar with Nami, Wednesday, and Robin. Robin kissed him and told him to never call her by her name again and left. Then he and Nami commiserated over drinks. Then shots. Then they were playing darts. He lost, so more shots. Then they had been forced to attempt to walk home. The blood drained from the man's face. Wednesday had texted Nami her hotel information. They went by to say hi, and Franky had left a note for "Miss All Sunday" before the girl kicked them out, along with apparently his arm.

  
He clenched his head in his hand. “Oh god... I have made a horrible mistake.”

 

That mistake plagued Franky for the rest of the day. He wasn’t a fool; though it was comparably subpar, he had a spare. However, the constant dread that Robin could show up at any time with his arm was mortifying. The man went through multiple repetitions of squats, sit-ups, and laps. He couldn’t sit still without feeling like he was going to explode.

  
After hours of watching the clock, Franky finally remembered that he had installed a gps device after Mozu and Kiwi had decided to “borrow” it for halloween. He hopped on his computer and logged in, wondering just how long the battery on that chip might have lasted.

  
As the map pulled up, Franky let out a sigh of relief, sure enough there was somehow a signal coming from the same hotel he and Nami had visited the night before. If he hurried maybe he could get the note and arm before Wednesday handed it over to Robin.

  
Franky quickly threw on a jacket and headed out the door. He didn’t even wait to use the elevator once he arrived at the hotel, opting instead to run up six flights of stairs. He knocked on Wednesday’s door.

  
There were some thumps from the door and a moment of silence before the loud click of a lock sliding.

  
“Go away! I don’t have it!” Wednesday called through the door.

  
Franky groaned, desperately hoping that her words did not mean what he thought they did. He paced back and forth in the hallway for a few moments, collecting from himself before returning to the door. He knocked again.

  
“Look, I’m really sorry about last night, but could you at least tell me where it is?” He pleaded.

  
There was another moment of silence as Franky just stared at the door. He turned around and was about to leave when he heard a small rustle from the door. There was a tiny creak as it opened just a crack.

  
“Pretend I didn’t open the door,” the young woman whispered. “Don’t answer me. Don’t look at me. Just listen.”

  
Franky obeyed, shifting his stance and tapping his foot as if he was still waiting. However, sweat began pooling on his back. There was seriously crazy stuff going on with this organization.

  
“I gave your arm to Miss Sunday,” Wednesday continued. “She’s in room 924. But before you go, I must warn you: don’t get pulled in by that woman.”  
Franky’s breath caught. The vehemence in the woman’s normally adorable voice caught him off guard.

  
“She’s a cold blooded killer who doesn’t care about anything but following orders… get too close and she’ll probably kill you too.”

  
Something deep inside Franky’s blood began to boil. He knew that she was probably telling the truth, but hearing those things said about the girl who he had defended in his heart for so long made him angry.

  
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but, it’s better to save yourself the heartache and risk in the long run,” she said. “Remember, 924.”  
The door clicked shut.

  
Franky let out a sigh of frustration. “Shit.”

  
Then he headed up to the ninth floor.

  
With each step he took, Franky felt greater and greater anticipation welling up in his chest for what her reaction to the note might be. Would she be pleased? Angry? Franky ruffled his hair as he trudged up the fire escape stairs. He couldn't even remember what he had written exactly, only that whatever it was left him upset enough to start yelling something about being torn apart. She had seemed so serious when she had asked him to forget about her. There was absolutely no way this note was going to go over well.  
Franky didn't knock immediately when he found the room. He was too nervous. He fiddled with his spare hand for a few seconds as he rehearsed what he might say to Robin when she opened the door. After a few moments Franky was startled by the door opening on its own.

  
He looked up to see Robin dressed in a bathrobe, staring at him. His face grew warm. The surprise in her eyes told him that he had taken her off-guard as well, and, though he knew this was his opportunity to say something, his mind went blank. She made a move to close the door again, but Franky thrust his artificial arm in the way. She stopped.  
"Is something the matter, Miss Sunday?" A male voice called from somewhere deeper in the apparently large room.

  
Robin glanced over her shoulder, before looking back at Franky. She smiled, though her eyes did not seem to match the intended mood.

  
"You're earlier than expected," she said, opening the door wide. She nodded for Franky to come in and took a step away from the door. She spoke to the other side of the room. "I invited one of the scientists from the LRC to discuss a prosthetic, though I wasn't expecting him to have such impeccable timing."

  
A dark-haired man, who was somehow even taller than Franky, stepped into view. He had and intimidating grimace and scar across his nose. Franky noted how expensive his suit looked, but something else quickly caught his eye. The man had only one hand. In place of the other was a menacing gold hook.

  
The man looked Franky up and down before offering a hand to shake. "You may call me, Mister Zero."

  
Franky nervously clasped the man's hand and shook it. That meant this man was possibly the head of the organization if not very high up. Not to mention, his aura oozed crime lord. It made Franky feel... uneasy to say the least. Then again, adding in Robin's particular state of dress and the man's missing hand probably wasn't helping the engineer's mixed feelings on the matter.

  
"Franky. Compact Robotics."

  
Mister Zero smirked, leaning back. He thrust his hand into one of his suit pockets.

  
"That is a very nice arm you have there, Franky," he noted, deep voice resonating throughout the room.

  
The door clicked shut, causing Franky to jump a bit. He looked at his arm and shrugged. "Eh, this is just my spare... though your hand looks pretty expensive too."  
Mister Zero held up his hook, so Franky could fully admire it.

  
"I have to admit, it has been quite a while since I have met a fellow amputee," he said. "Do you mind if I ask the circumstances?"

  
Franky stiffened up. The eyes with which the other man was studying him, were like the eyes of a lion, an apex predator evaluating his prey. Franky had recounted the fake tale of experimental rocket fuel countless times before, but suddenly was beginning to doubt if such a lie would work on this man. Was it possible that he was one of the people who knew of Robin's past?

  
"Well- you see-"

  
Robin then intruded on the conversation, holding up Franky's usual prosthetic.

  
"This was the work I wanted you to see," she said.

  
Mister Zero's eyes trailed over the arm, clearly passing some sort of judgement. Then he lifted his hand to accept the arm from Robin. "May I?"

  
Franky took the moment to take a step back. "Yeah, of course."

  
Clearly Mister Zero was not a weak man, since he seemed to have no trouble handling the metal arm with one hand. He inspected the fingers, the palm, and the cup in which Franky's arm would normally rest, before handing the arm back to Franky.

  
"How much would it cost to commission one for myself?" He said.

  
Franky blinked at the man for a second, before he had fully digested the question. His hair stood on end as he suddenly realized he was being offered a job. He clutched the arm tight against his chest and looked to Robin, who just nodded impatiently towards Mister Zero. Franky nodded back and straightened up.

  
"Well- um," he stammered. "I would have to see the site to know just what mechanics are needed."

  
Franky had admittedly never had to outfit anyone else before. Outside of therapy he hadn't fully met another amputee.

  
Without any hesitation, Mister Zero pushed up his sleeve and removed his hook. What lied underneath was the malformed semblance of what clearly used to be a palm and pinky. Franky cautiously held out a hand to flip it, which the other man obliged.

  
"Pretty gruesome looking isn't it," He said with a dark smirk. "though I am sure yours looks much worse."

  
"It's actually more than I expected to work with," Franky admitted. Having the remains of even one finger meant that it would be much easier to have the prosthetic react in the way that the user intended. It almost made Franky feel a little jealous. He chuckled. "How'd you wind up getting so lucky?"

  
Mister Zero let out an amused huff, taking his nub back and replacing his hook. "The crocodile had bad aim."

  
Franky let out a whistle. He wasn't fully sure if the man was bluffing or not, but he sure as hell wasn't about to question it on the off chance that the story was true. Gangster or not, this man was a badass. He could just picture how epic the sight must have been of Mister Zero full on wrestling a crocodile.

  
"So what will the cost look like?"

  
Robin's voice snapped Franky back to reality. Franky cleared his throat.

  
"Right. The cost," he said, as he began to run the numbers in his head. Calculating the cost of the metal wasn't hard, but there were also man hours to consider. Then there was fact that this man seemed to be well off for cash. "Let's say, a grand."

  
Mister Zero let out what was either a snort or a scoff. "You want a thousand dollars?"

  
Franky shifted his weight to one side, smiling confidently. "Oi, We're talking about top of the line quality and a custom fit. For my time, that's cheap."  
Mister Zero nodded before stretching out his hand once again. Franky shook it.

  
"Very well. I expect only excellence then," he said. He nodded to Robin, pulling a cigar out of his pocket. "Pay him half upfront and draw up a formal agreement."

  
"Yes, Sir."  
He turned back to Franky with smirk. "Now, if you don't mind, I have some business with the restaurant downstairs to attend to."

  
As he left the room, Mister Zero, lightly touched a strand of Robin's hair, causing Franky's heart to shudder. He gave them both a cool smile, opening the door wide.  
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Franky."

  
After the door closed, Robin and Franky stood alone in silence for a moment. Once he felt pretty certain they weren't going to be suddenly interrupted, the man rubbed the back of his neck and said what was itching at the back of his mind: "Is he just your boss?"

  
Her expression was cool and distant as she looked away from him. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Most of the time."

  
The frankness of her statement hurt, but all the same Franky pressed on. He used the prosthetic in his hand to gesture between them. "Does he know?"

  
Robin scoffed, pushing the prosthetic away, never once letting her calm façade falter. "I imagine our brains would be decorating the walls, if he did."

  
Franky grimaced at how dark the remark was. He let out a sigh, studying the arm in his hand. There was no note wedged in it. He looked back up at the woman who was now gazing at him with her soft brown eyes. Her lips parted to form a syllable. He held his breath.

  
"I didn't realize Tom had died," She murmured.

  
It felt like a rock had been dropped into Franky's stomach. He now knew what he must have written about. Gently, he placed his extra robotic arm on the entryway table before placing his hands on Robin's shoulders and was shocked when she didn't pull away.

  
Her eyes avoided his own as he drew closer.

  
"Oi," he whispered. "I don't know what exactly I wrote you last night, but please don't think that it was your fault. That geezer was always on the wrong side of the law at one time or another."

  
He sighed, forcing himself to smile. "Besides, he would probably come back to kill me, if I let you be upset."

  
"I never said I was upset," She said, shrugging him off. It was an obvious lie. She made her way to the other part of the room, before turning back to him. "Do you really not remember what you wrote me?"

  
Her voice felt accusatory, prompting Franky to just give her a sheepish shrug. He felt like an idiot as he fumbled for the right words to say. He pressed a hand to his temple. He let out a frustrated breath. "I was super drunk, like I haven't had a night that bad in seven years."

  
Robin stared at him for a moment. He wasn't sure if she actually believed him or not, but eventually she pulled what appeared to be a ripped sheet of notebook paper out of her robe pocket. She unfolded the note, raising her eyebrows at him, before beginning to speak.

  
"'Dear Miss Whatever Sunday,' " She read aloud. "'See, I'm not calling you by your real name. Unlike some people I can respect others' feelings.' Missing the apostrophe. 'When you left did you even care about what happened to us? How we felt? I lost my arm but Tom died. They shot him and he died. They killed him on purpose.' Spelled with an 'o' where the 'u' should be..."

  
Her hand was visibly shaking, but, as much as he wanted to reach out, Franky was frozen in place as she continued to read his note.  
" 'But I still looked for you. I wanted to save you. If I had known you had joined them, I would have wasted a lot less time. You should have this arm since you couldn't keep the last one hope you are happy.' Signed, 'Mister Nub'."

  
"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit..." Franky closed his eyes as he sank to the floor.

  
He could hear her folding the note back up.

  
"Is that what you think?" She asked, the accusatory tone returning to her voice. "That I didn't care or want to go back?"

  
"No... I-"

  
"After everything I couldn’t find you. You weren’t in any phone directories, and they told me you had died," She said, never once raising her voice. "Then your name finally shows up on one of my lists after thirteen years, and they tell me that if you out my identity they'll kill you. How am I supposed to be happy?"

  
He stared up at her. She was a vision of scorn and grace, a river of molten lava. He probably should have only felt guilt, but at that moment he was so awed by her strength he couldn't even muster the words to apologize. It was slowly beginning to dawn on him just how different she had become.

  
Robin glanced away, as if she had heard his thoughts, and directed her attention back to the door. She went over to closet. "I should get you your money."

  
Franky watched her silently flip through a large bundle of bills, which she had pulled from the room's safe. Clarity was finally beginning to show its familiar face.

  
"Oi," he said. Robin shifted away from him, as he got to his feet. He placed an arm on the wall beside her. "I'm sorry for saying that stuff to you... I know you've only been trying to protect me. But Robin-."

  
She thrust a wad of bills towards him. "Here's the five hundred."

  
He reached beyond the money to grab her hand. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed and steely, but the hand she clasped to her chest betrayed her.

  
"I want to protect you too-," he pleaded.

  
"You can't protect me." She snatched her hand away from him and shoved the cash into his belt. She then went to open the door. "I'll bring you the contract on Monday; promise me you'll attempt to have your emotions under control by then."

  
Franky picked his good arm up and crossed over to her with a sigh. Her words were harsh, but her concern was sincere. He couldn't argue too much with that. As he got closer, he could see her tense up. Her hand was secured firmly around the doorknob. He placed his hand on the knob to open the door himself, but she wouldn't budge. She turned her face away from his. He smiled.

  
"What? Don't you want me to leave?" He said.

  
He could tell she was not amused, but seeing her embarrassed reminded him of old times. Apparently, she could sense his thoughts, because she quickly shot him a flat glare.  
"You need to move the bills from your waistband," She said.

  
He looked down with a chuckle and did as she asked, stashing the money in his jacket pocket. She opened the door, and he slid out. He pivoted around to catch her right before she closed the door.

  
"Someday... " he muttered. Robin stopped, staring at him intensely. Franky took a deep breath. "Someday, I'm gonna find a way."

  
She let out a small breath, and smiled, truly smiled, in a way that he had not seen for thirteen years. She quickly covered her mouth with one hand and looked away. "Goodnight, Franky."

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins in the Fall of 2002, when tensions about war were high and things like the internet required a dial-up connection.


End file.
